


You're The Missing Piece I Need, The Song Inside of Me

by kissontheneck



Category: American Idol RPF, David Archuleta - Fandom, David Cook (Musician), Disney RPF, Pop Music RPF, cookleta - Fandom
Genre: Camp Star, Crossover, David Cook is such a diva, Gen, M/M, Rock Stars, camp rock - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-16
Updated: 2016-09-16
Packaged: 2018-08-15 07:54:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 24,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8048413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kissontheneck/pseuds/kissontheneck
Summary: This is it! After years of longing to attend Camp Rock, David Archuleta finally gets the chance to go. Everything’s awesome until he accidentally gets into a fight with his new friend Carly over his other new friend Nick. Meanwhile, at Camp Star, David Cook is breaking all the rules and causing havoc in the wake of hearing the most perfect singing voice while walking in the woods. Problem is, he didn’t get a good look at the singer’s face, and embarks on a mission to discover this mystery person’s true identity.





	You're The Missing Piece I Need, The Song Inside of Me

~*~

“All right, mijo, here we are!”

Time slowed as the Archuleta’s family van finally turned off the long county highway onto a gravel road lined with trees. David’s eyes caught on the rustic-cut sign that declared they had arrived at “CAMP ROCK”.

“Oh my gosh!” he finally declared, the sign slowly disappearing as they left it further behind them. “Mom, I can’t breathe.”

Mrs. Archuleta chuckled as she continued driving. “Now, I think the directions said we drive for about a half a mile before we get to the main check-in. Keep your eye out for any turns, okay?”

David nodded, still not believing they’d actually made it. Still, physically being in a place didn’t guarantee anything. What if they’d lost his registration? What if they’d never even received it? What if David had forgotten to put a stamp on the envelope at all? What if it was still sitting on his desk at home right now?

“David, why are you crawling up your seat like that? Sit down, sweetie! We’re almost there!”

“I’m nervous, Mom. What if I’m terrible?”

“David!”

They traveled another half-mile, David clutching his seat belt across his chest the entire time. He wondered if kids arriving at Harvard or Princeton felt the same way he did right then.

No, what he was feeling had to be at least a hundred times worse.

At long last, the neverending trees gave way to something more than the narrow path and filtered sunlight. Despite not having seen anyone on the road, Mrs. Archuleta had to stop the van short of where they could see the office building as at least two other vehicles were stopped in front of them.

“What’s going on, I wonder,” Mrs. Archuleta asked aloud as they slowed to a stop. “There must be a parking area besides right here, isn’t there?”

By now David had unlatched his seat belt and practically crawled up onto the front dash in order to see what was going on. He could make out a woman talking animatedly with someone in the first car, which by the way wasn’t just an old Honda Odyssey like the Archuletas owned. David didn’t know a whole lot about cars, but it was definitely much newer and nicer than anything he’d ever seen in his life. Maybe one of those Escalade things he’d heard so much about (but never seen in real life). Despite its massive size, the shiny paint and chrome trim made it look like it’d just come off the showroom floor and belonged anywhere except in the middle of the forest.

During the five minute interval that followed, David’s attention slowly drifted from whatever the problem up ahead seemed to be to the car directly in front of them -- an older model station wagon with camping supplies stuffed in the back and a teenage girl hanging out the passenger window. David was still gazing at the back of her long, dark hair when she suddenly disappeared into the car, the door flew open, and the girl tumbled out. David hadn’t completely considered how ‘rock’ Camp Rock would be until his eyes landed on her outfit of cutoff jeans, pink tank top and leather jacket.

Looking down at himself David realized he was wearing clean, new jeans, a polo shirt, and new sneakers. Horrified, he quickly untucked his shirt, hoping that would improve things. It mostly just made him look like a sloppy cell phone salesperson.

“Oh, that girl is coming over here,” Mrs. Archuleta observed, and David looked up just in time to find her leaning on his side of the car. Closer up, David could see she had done some crazy thing to her hair that made it stick up everywhere (his sister Claudia did this sometimes, he totally didn’t get it), and that she wore large, silver hoop earrings that somehow didn’t get tangled in her hairdo.

David rolled down the window.

“So, we’re probably going to be here awhile with those guys in front of us,” the girl said in greeting, brushing hair out of her face. If David hadn’t expected how rock and roll campers would be, he definitely didn’t expect any of them to have Irish accents either.

“What’s going on?” Mrs. Archuleta asked, trying to lean as far as her seat belt would allow her.

The girl rolled her eyes. “It’s those guys. Every year they immediately make complaints about their cabin assignments. It’s randomly assigned and they know it. They haven’t even gotten out of the car yet!”

“And who are they?” David asked, genuinely curious. He couldn’t help leaning further into the dash even though that didn’t help him see any better at all.

“Oh, right,” the girl said, “you’re new, huh?”

David nodded, only feeling slightly embarrassed that the first year he’d ever been to camp was when he was eighteen.

The girl sighed as she looked off towards the conversation that was still going on with the camp employee and someone inside the Escalade.

“The Jonas brothers,” she finally answered, squinting her eyes.

“Sounds like a boy band,” Mrs. Archuleta murmured. The girl nearly choked she laughed so hard.

“Wow,” she said, beaming in at the two Archuletas. “Don’t ever say that in front of them,” she suggested. “Especially Nick. He’s the worst. By the way, I’m Carly.”

Carly thrust her hand in through the window and David took it awkwardly, introducing himself in return.

“Nice to meet you, David,” she said smiling. “Oh, I’d better get back to the car. Looks like the princelings are finally moving. See you around!”

Carly jogged back to the station wagon as three teenage boys exited the Escalade in a fashion reminiscent of celebrities arriving at the Grammys. The comparison wasn’t exactly an exaggeration -- at least half a dozen girls ran up to talk to them as soon as the Escalade cleared the entrance into the campground.

A small parking lot did in fact lay just a bit beyond the office building, so Mrs. Archuleta followed Carly’s car without stopping. As they passed these apparently infamous Camp Rock campers now standing along the road, David tried to catch a decent glimpse of them. All three brothers were of average height, dark-haired, and fashionably dressed. Leaning back to see around his mother, David was wondering which one might be Nick when his eyes locked with the youngest brother, whose haunting gaze made his heart stop. The surprise caused him to tumble awkwardly into the back seat.

“David!” Mrs. Archuleta shouted, stopping the car. “Are you all right?”

“Fine!” David assured her, rubbing his throbbing shoulder. He struggled to untangle his legs from between the front seats.

“I just forgot to put my seat belt back on.”

~*~

“I can’t believe he’s still asleep.”

“I know, right? Usually he can detect as soon as we leave a wi-fi hotspot. How long we been sitting here, Tiemann?”

“About fifteen minutes.”

“Incredible!”

Even before opening his eyes, David Cook knew he was about to be annoyed. Firstly, because he could tell it was daylight, and thus horrible sunshine was surely just about to blind him in two seconds time. Secondly, it was terribly hot in the car, which only added to the discomfort of sleeping in a car in the first place. Thirdly, he’d just heard the latter part of his bandmates’ conversation.

“Shh, Princess is waking up,” he could hear Andy whisper.

“I hope there’s a good explanation for why we’re just sitting here in a boiling car,” Cook grumbled, straightening up and rubbing his eyes. Sweat had collected at the nape of his neck, which made him even more uncomfortable. “Is there traffic or something? Did you guys try to drive through L.A. again instead of going around?”

Neal Tiemann didn’t laugh very often, but when he did it was an unforgettable bark.

“L.A.?” he gasped, clapping Cook hard on the shoulder. “Oh boy, that’s hilarious. We’re no where near L.A., buddy.”

“But it should be a place just as familiar,” Andy added wryly, rolling down one of the heavily tinted windows to reveal a canvas of nothing but evergreens and blue sky. The sound of birds chirping washed in on the cool air that was Cook’s only relief at the moment.

“What are you talking about?” Cook demanded, straining to see over his best friend’s shoulder. “Where are we?”

“How quickly they forget their roots,” Neal said nostalgically. “It’s sad really.”

Cook was rightly confused, especially since he was now trying to check messages on his phone despite not having any cell reception at all. Why didn’t he have any cell reception? He glared out the window again, squinting at the endless trees.

“Where are we?” he asked again slowly, now noting some log cabin style buildings in the far off distance. “I haven’t been in a forest since I was at… oh God.”

Neal burst into laughter again and Andy couldn’t help snickering.

“Welcome to Camp Star!” Neal announced excitedly.

“Why are we here?” Cook demanded through gritted teeth. “Take me home right now.”

“Oooh no,” Andy replied, now grabbing for a duffel bag in the seat behind them and shoving it into Cook’s lap. “You’re here for the whole summer, buddy.”

“I am not staying here!” Cook bellowed. “You can’t make me! I hate nature!”

“But nature sure loves you,” Neal said sweetly. “Also? The label isn’t exactly happy about the drunken telling off of the Tallahassee crowd last weekend and cutting the show short. Though that one lady in the front row didn’t mind being gifted your pants.”

“I apologized for that!” Cook replied defensively. “The very next day!”

Andy sighed. “In your bathrobe… hungover… with a Bloody Mary in your hand at nine in the morning.”

“That is a breakfast drink,” Cook said smartly. “Because vegetable juice.”

“Anyway,” Andy continued, “the label thinks you need to do some volunteer work to really make up for it.”

“And who is more deserving than the very place that gave you your great big start?” Neal added, now obviously enjoying this more than anyone.

“No,” Cook said firmly, crossing his arms. “Just no.”

“You sort of have to,” Andy insisted. “The deal has been made. They’re expecting you.”

Cook huffed. “So? Tell them I’m sick. Tell them I _died_.”

“Probably the only worse career killer,” Neal joked.

“You’re going,” Andy said, now putting on his serious face. In one movement he flung open the door with one hand as he tugged on Cook’s jacket with the other. Neal helped by pushing from the other side until Cook had basically fallen out onto the dirty ground.

“Let me back in!” Cook demanded, banging his fist on the door.

“Don’t forget this!” Neal hollered, shoving Cook’s guitar out Andy’s open window. Cook had to drop the duffel bag in his arms in order to catch it.

“Oh, and Cook?” Neal added, practically laying in Andy’s lap.

Cook just stared at him, squinting.

“Will you make me a birdhouse?”

“I’m gonna give you some kind of bird!” Cook growled, lunging towards the car.

“Hey, hey, hey!” Andy shouted, pushing an hysterical Neal off of him. “You gotta be PG from now until the end of summer, Cook. Might as well start now.”

There wasn’t enough time from the moment the words left Andy’s mouth to the closing of Andy’s window to get another word in edgewise, and besides, the car was starting to drive away. Cook stood there in the residual dust, rage pulsing through his veins.

“I HATE YOU!” he yelled after the car. “I HATE THIS PLACE. I HATE EVERYTHING.”

Completely forgetting that he’d dropped his duffel bag at his feet only moments before, Cook immediately tripped over it and landed flat on his face in the dirt.

~*~

The Archuletas and the Smithsons (as David quickly found out was Carly’s last name) walked together from the small parking area to the main office. Mrs. Archuleta had already fallen to asking a million questions of Mr. Smithson, which David only found slightly embarrassing. He and Carly trailed behind their parents, chatting.

“Where are you from?” David asked immediately, which made Carly chuckle. It occurred to him that people probably asked her that all the time.

“Dublin,” she replied. “We moved here a couple years ago.”

“Wow,” was all David could think to say. He’d hardly ever been out of the state of Utah, let alone the United States.

The camp office proved to be pretty small, so Carly and David decided to sit outside while their parents went to check in and get their cabin assignments. It was a nice day with a cool breeze flowing through the campground. After a moment of just taking in the atmosphere, David’s eye caught the little group of campers still huddled around the Jonas family across the way.

“What’s up with them anyway?” David asked. Carly sighed and rolled her eyes.

“Don’t worry about it is my advice,” Carly answered through gritted teeth. “They’re not worth your time.”

David had only known Carly for maybe fifteen minutes at this point, but something about her really resonated with him. It wasn’t easy for him to make friends and here he had one fall right into his lap. So even though he was extremely curious, David figured it’d be best not to push the issue, especially since Carly looked so annoyed.

They seemed to wait an awfully long time, but David didn’t mind so much. He’d wanted to come to Camp Rock for so long that it was taking him a little while to get used to the fact that he was finally there. Carly filled him in on some of her past experiences at the camp as they watched other campers arriving and greeting one another.

“As soon as we get our assignments we’ll take all our stuff to our cabins and settle in,” she explained. “There will be some free time to get to know your cabin mates and stuff, then it’ll be dinner time. The first dinner always takes _ages_ because they do this whole welcome to camp spiel and you’re just starving by the time they finally bring you some food.”

David remembered that his mother had packed a whole box of granola bars in one of his bags, so he made a mental note to share some with Carly. Somehow she seemed like the type of person who would be very grumpy when she was hungry.

More people were arriving now, and David found it fascinating to watch people pass by with their various instruments and things. He’d brought his keyboard, of course, but he specifically remembered the Camp Rock brochure advertising a beautiful grand piano in one of the large meeting rooms. He really couldn’t wait to get his hands on it if he could.

David had drifted into daydreaming when someone suddenly appeared in front of him, startling him out of his reverie. Staring upward, he found himself looking into the dark eyes and admittedly handsome face of one of those Jonas brothers.

“You’re new,” was all the stranger said. This made David feel more awkward than usual. Who didn’t at least say hello first?

“Back off, Nicky,” Carly said sharply. “This how you have to make friends now? Stealing them off of other people?”

The Jonas boy didn’t look amused at all, not that he seemed very cheerful in the first place. He squinted his eyes at Carly, his lips a thin line.

“First of all, I hate being called Nicky,” he informed her.

“Yeah, I know,” Carly replied, smirking a little bit.

“Second, as a cabin leader and instructor this year, it’s important that I become familiar with new campers.”

Carly couldn’t have looked any more beside herself, and she straightened up considerably.

“What!” she declared, her eyes narrowed. “I applied to be an instructor too, but didn’t get accepted. Why on earth would they choose _you_ instead?”

David had a feeling that he knew the answer to this, given how Carly had already painted the Jonas family. It seemed the Jonases had some kind of in with the camp administration or money or both.

“Some things are industry secrets,” Nick said cryptically, looking very pleased with himself. “Now would you stop interrupting my conversation with…?”

Nick’s fierce eyes flicked over to David, who had suddenly forgotten his own name.

“Uh… oh, David. I’m David.”

“It’s nice to see you here, David,” Nick replied. “What’s your instrument?”

“Piano,” David managed to say, though he himself wasn’t completely sure that was the right answer. Nick’s eyes lit up at this response.

“Awesome,” he said. “Me too. I’ll see you in class then.”

Just then one of the other Jonases called out to Nick, informing him that they were moving on to the cabin now. Nick confirmed he’d be joining them momentarily.

“See you in piano class,” Nick said to David as he began to step away. “See you never, Smithson.”

“It’ll be too soon,” Carly replied, arms folded across her chest.

Nick flashed a smile, waving as he caught up with his brothers.

“That was… weird,” David finally said after a moment.

“Yeah, well, just be careful,” Carly replied through tight lips.

“What do you mean?” David asked, turning to look at her.

But David didn’t find out what she meant because just then their parents emerged from the office, stacks of paperwork in their hands and laughing together.

“Here you go, mijo,” Mrs. Archuleta announced, handing David a sheet with camp rules printed on it. Another sheet had a map of the campground and his cabin assignment written at the top -- Lakeside group, cabin L2. Someone had circled the location on the map as well.

“Right by the lake!” she added. “Oh, you’re going to have such a good time, David!”

Considering what he’d just witnessed, David was sure it’d at least be interesting.

~*~

It took no less than a half an hour for Cook to make it to the main office and discover that absolutely no one was around. It was downright creepy, in fact. He was ready to call Andy to get his ass back to camp and pick him up because -- ha ha! -- the joke was now complete and he could stop kidding around now. Of course, looking at his phone he remembered he had zero service and so he was really gearing up to murder the very next human being he saw.

It turned out the next human being he saw was a little kid, maybe ten years old, hustling like crazy in the direction of the camp’s main campfire area, where every night the whole camp got together and sang sappy “we’ll be friends forever” songs and stupid junk like that.

Cook rolled his eyes and sank against the office door. He’d forgotten about the initial “Welcome to Camp Star!” gathering on the first day of camp, something he’d sort of hated even when he’d been a camper. It was definitely the _least_ rock and roll thing of the entire organization and there was no way in hell Cook was going to that. He knew where the staff cabins were -- he’d break in if he had to.

Hoisting his guitar over his shoulder and taking up his bag again (didn’t he have people to do this for him?), Cook started making his way up the steep path towards the staff cabins. He’d always thought it’d be great to be far away from the chaos of camp, but hadn’t considered how far out it truly was. A driver would’ve really come in handy right about then.

From the top of the hill, one could see just past the communal gathering spot (yes, two hundred kids were currently running around like little ants down there), and because trees had been cleared for said gathering area, a person also had a marvelous view of the lake. With the sun started to set behind the trees and mountains in the distance, it looked something like a picturesque postcard from a distant land.

Remembering that he was supposed to be pissed off, Cook turned on his heel and stomped up the steps to the first staff cabin. For some insane reason the door was actually unlocked, so Cook let himself in, grumbling all the while.

To his disappointment, the staff cabins were barely more comfortable than he remembered the camper cabins being. Tossing his duffel bag on the floor, Cook immediately threw himself onto the nearest bed. Just as his head hit the pillow there was a crinkling sound like paper, and he turned in irritation to find a pink envelope wedged under his right ear. Though tempted to throw it across the room, his eye caught the word “David” written across the front, as if someone knew that was the exact bed he was going to choose. He tore the envelope open savagely and light pink paper with ruffled edging poked out. Cook tugged at the note in order to read it.

_Welcome back, Davey!_

_Sorry to hear you’ve had some troubles lately, but hopefully a return to your roots will help you center your mind. We’re so excited to have you back! I’ve taken the liberty of including your first week’s class schedule. Be there or be square!_

_XOXO,  
Aunt Paula_

Cook groaned at the note from his aunt, who he had totally forgotten would be there too. She’d been the director of Camp Star since its first days and had been the one who first encouraged him to come to camp. The worst part about having his Aunt Paula around was that it was nearly impossible to be annoyed with her about anything. Complaining to her about his current situation wasn’t going to do him any good at all, and all he really wanted at the moment was to complain. Everything was terrible.

A cursory glance over the week’s schedule had him teaching classes such as Beginning Guitar, Classic Rock Study, and Stage Presentation, whatever that even meant. A lot of the classes started before noon as well, which was very quickly going to become a problem for him. Who on earth did anything before noon?

Tossing the note onto the bedside table, Cook let out a gigantic sigh as he stared at the ceiling made of roughly cut tree trunks. What a waste of summer. He should’ve been on tour, he should’ve been getting _paid_. But here he was, stuck at Camp Star with no Internet, no screaming fans, and no concierge service.

Oh yeah, and kids. Lots and lots of kids.

Cook rolled over and buried his face in his pillow.

~*~

David sat with Carly at dinner, where she introduced him to some of her other friends -- Jason, Brooke, and Syesha. Carly had been right about the long-winded speeches, and by the time they finally ate anything they all fell silent save for the noise of forks clinking on dishes.

After dinner they were free to socialize and get familiar with the camp until nine o’clock, when they’d have to return to their cabins and begin getting ready for bed. Everyone else had been to Camp Rock before, so they helped David find where his classes would be and then walked around, pointing out where other important places were, such as the snack shack, the first aid hut, and the sports equipment shed.

As the sun began to sink behind the trees, the group found itself drifting towards the silent lake, its shining surface a calm, flat sheet except for one family of ducks swimming across the middle. David hadn’t thought about it too much before, but being close to the lake was going to be so pleasant.

“Are there fish in this lake?” he asked idly as he, Jason, and Carly stared out into its glittering waters. Brooke and Syesha had wandered off to find stones to skip.

“Yeah,” Jason replied. “You can fish on certain days during the summer if you like.”

David didn’t necessarily like fishing, he mostly wanted to know if any might brush against him while swimming, but to be polite he nodded and hummed as if he might consider it.

“Don’t forget we share the lake with Camp Star,” Carly explained, squinting against the setting sun.

“Wha -- we share the lake with who?” David stammered.

Carly turned to look at him, brow raised. “Camp Star? Surely you know they’re next door.”

David shook his head, a little embarrassed that he didn’t know something that seemed pretty major.

“It’s another music camp,” Jason explained. “The lake’s pretty big, as you can see, so it’s usually not a problem. It’s pretty deep in the middle so people don’t go out too incredibly far.”

“Does anyone ever try to boat across?” David wondered, trying to imagine one camp attempting to ambush the other in the middle of the night.

“Sure, crazy people,” Jason laughed. “ I mean, I think it happens now and then, but no one’s done it in awhile.”

David still had more questions. “How big is Camp Star? What’s it like?”

A dead silence hung for a long moment before Jason answered.

“It’s a bit bigger than Camp Rock,” he explained, to which Carly huffed and rolled her eyes. “They’re, you know, different.”

“A bit bigger?” Carly said. “Jason, I love you, but as always you’re way too nice. That place is gigantic. I think twice as big as Camp Rock. It extends all the way out in that direction and meets up against us on that side, in the middle of the wooded area.” Carly pointed around them as she explained.

“Wow,” was all David could think to reply, trying to imagine the size of Camp Star.

“And as far as what they’re like,” Carly began, folding her arms. Jason gave her a look and she seemed to change her mind about what she was going to say.

“Like Jason said. Different.”

David wanted to ask _how_ they were different, but it’d become obvious that no one wanted to talk about it. Besides, David could tell well enough that “different” was a euphemism for something less than ideal.

Thankfully, Brooke and Syesha returned with a giant collection of smooth stones they’d found, and all five spent the next hour skipping stones and laughing, thoughts of Camp Star quickly slipping away.

~*~

“Well, look what the cat dragged in.”

Cook had been asleep for maybe five seconds (or at least it seemed like it) when a voice he hadn’t heard in ages awoke him from his frustrated slumber. The Australian lilt confused him at first, but once he’d managed to pry his eyes open he was about as close to happy as he’d been since he’d arrived at this godforsaken place.

“Mike!” he croaked, rubbing his eyes as he sat up in bed. “What’re you doing here?”

“Uh, I’m staff here, duh,” Michael replied, as if this was something the nightly news reported on regularly. “What are _you_ doing here?”

“I don’t wanna talk about it,” Cook mumbled. “I’m surprised you don’t know.”

“Oh, I know,” Michael replied, grinning. “I just wanna hear you say it.”

“I hate you,” Cook said, to which Michael reared back in laughter.

“Ah, I remember the first time you said you hated me,” Michael recalled nostalgically. “Twelve years old, just outside the music hall. I’d convinced you to canoe across to Camp Rock in the middle of the night and your boat capsized.”

“I almost drowned!” Cook protested. “That’s not funny!”

“It’s sooo funny,” Michael replied, plopping himself down next to Cook on his bed. “I’m glad you’re not dead though.”

“No thanks to you,” Cook said, remembering how many other times Michael had come up with schemes that put both their lives in danger. “We caused some trouble though, didn’t we?”

“Oh yeah,” Michael agreed. “The only problem with being staff now is you’re expected to _prevent_ those kinds of shenanigans. Pfft.”

Cook couldn’t help a small smile. “Please tell me we’re at least in the same cabin.”

“Not only are we in the same cabin, we _are_ the cabin.” Michael gestured dramatically around the room, where at least two other people could’ve slept. “No one else assigned here.”

Cook couldn’t believe his luck. “What!” he exclaimed. “Really?”

“You may be being punished, but Paula thought you still deserved your private space.” Michael paused and grinned. “Well, private space plus me.”

“You can be in my private space any time,” Cook said, fully aware of what he was saying.

“Are you flirting with me?” Michael asked, giving his friend a side eye.

“Uh, duh,” Cook answered, elbowing Michael in the ribs.

“I’m so glad you’re back,” Michael laughed, rubbing his side. “It hasn’t been the same without you.”

~*~

Even though David’s excitement for camp had kept him awake long after everyone else had fallen asleep, it was the same excitement that woke him up before everyone else as well. It was so early, in fact, that he’d had time to read two chapters of his book before finally deciding to get dressed. Hoping he wasn’t breaking any rules, he quietly left the cabin to go for another walk by the lake. Back home he was used to doing this sort of thing, spending his quality “me” time before breakfast. It really helped him prepare mentally for the rest of the day.

As quiet as the lake had been the night before, now it was alive with birds chirping and squirrels scampering about. These little creatures brought a smile to David’s face, and he got so lost in enjoying this peaceful activity that he very nearly ran into someone jogging towards him.

“Hey, watch out!” the person yelped automatically, pulling his headphones off and turning on him. “Oh, it’s you.”

David looked up to find Nick Jonas glaring back down at him, his dark curls wet with sweat and sticking to his forehead. Clearly, Nick also liked getting out before everyone else for a morning run.

“Sorry!” David apologized, jumping out of Nick’s way. “I wasn’t paying attention. Sorry.”

The corner of Nick’s mouth raised slightly as he said, “No problem. I can get pretty in the zone myself. What’re you doing up?”

“Couldn’t sleep,” David answered, a little distracted by the clingy shirt Nick was wearing. “Too excited to start my classes.”

This made Nick smile, which for some reason hit David right in the chest. Nick seemed like a pretty stoic guy, so getting a genuine smile out of him felt a little like winning a prize. David couldn’t help but smile in return.

“Glad to hear it,” Nick replied. “Well, I’m gonna finish my run. Technically, I should tell you to get back to your cabin before anyone thinks you’re missing.”

“Technically?” David asked.

“Yeah, since I’m kind of staff. But really it’s because I wouldn’t want you to miss my class,” Nick said. David swore he winked at him, but it could’ve just been squinting.

David ate breakfast with his friends, something that gave him great relief considering that before he arrived at camp he’d been sure he’d be eating alone the whole time. It turned out Brooke also played the piano, and that she’d be in David’s same class that morning, while Jason had some kind of fashion styling class he’d signed up for and Carly would be in a career management class.

It had not occurred to David that the piano class was taking place in the same room where the camp’s gorgeous grand piano was housed. Sure, he’d found the building the night before, but the connection that the meeting hall was also where that incredible instrument lived hadn’t entered his mind at all. Perhaps it’d been because he was too distracted by his new friends, but as he walked into the room now even Brooke’s excited rambling faded into the background. There it was, slightly elevated by a raised section built in front of the expansive glass picture window. Sun glinted off its shiny surface and David stood hypnotized.

“Okay, everyone calm down.” Nick’s voice carried across the room as he made his way to the front and stood directly in front of the piano. David’s heart did another flip of excitement.

“I know you’re excited, but we have to talk about a few things first,” Nick started. David was instantly mesmerized. Nick sure seemed to command a room, and he’d only said a few words so far. “But even before that, I must congratulate you all on being in this advanced level class. As you can see, it’s smaller than those beginner classes you undoubtedly remember taking.”

This made David wonder how in the heck he’d even gotten in, but maybe his mom had really sold Camp Rock on his piano ability. No doubt she’d shown them one of the dozens of videos on her phone of him playing. He supposed that was fine, he’d hate to have to start in a beginner’s class, but now he felt an expectation-fueled anxiety that he’d not anticipated beforehand.

The class consisted mostly of Nick talking about what to expect from class and the types of things they’d cover, mixed with him occasionally sitting down at the piano to play a few things. It became abundantly clear as to why Nick was teaching this class: he had a lot of talent. Two or three people had a chance to introduce themselves and give examples of their playing, but class time ran out before it got to David.

David was still packing up his things after most other people had left, rushing off to their next lessons. David’s next thing was Recording Studio, which took place in the building next door, so he didn’t need to be in such a hurry, thankfully.

“Hey.”

David looked up to find Nick directly in front of him. The guy could move like a ninja, apparently, because David hadn’t heard him approach at all.

“Hi.”

“I’m bummed we didn’t get to your introduction,” Nick said.

“Yeah,” David replied. “It’s okay. I’m always way too nervous on the first day anyway. It’ll be better tomorrow.”

“What about today at lunch?” Nick asked casually.

“Pardon?” David replied.

“What’re you doing at lunch?” Nick repeated.

“Er… eating in the mess hall, I guess,” David answered, slightly confused. Nick laughed, but David had no idea why -- it wasn’t like there was any other choice of dining establishment at camp.

“You’re funny, you know that?” Nick said. “No, I mean, come have lunch with me and my brothers.”

“Oh,” David replied. “Yeah, sure. Where do you usually sit?”

Nick laughed again, and David felt a strange mix of pleasure and pain. Nick’s laugh was just as musical as he was, but David also felt a little like he’d stumbled onto another Camp Rock secret that he just didn’t know about yet.

“Get your lunch and then come to our cabin,” Nick explained. “In the Arrowhead group. Cabin A4.”

“Are we allowed to eat in the cabins?” David asked. He was pretty sure no one was supposed to leave the dining area.

Nick smirked and tilted his head. “Just be there at noon, okay? Now get going, your next class is in one minute.”

~*~

At approximately six in the morning the next day, Cook awoke to the sound of Michael singing to himself in the sad excuse for a kitchen that existed in their cabin. Really there was just a toaster and coffee supplies, but Michael managed to make a whole hell of a lot of noise bumping around in there anyway.

Cook rolled over, rubbing his eyes.

“Is that entirely necessary?” he grumbled, squinting across the room.

“Morning, darling,” Michael sang in reply, carrying two cups of coffee to Cook’s bedside. “Here, I brought you something.”

Cook sat up and peered into the cup. Despite being up at an inhuman hour, the smell of freshly brewed coffee could at least ease his annoyance a little bit. Besides, he’d seen the French press on the counter the night before, so he knew he was about to enjoy coffee that was about a hundred times better than the coffee in the dining hall.

“You put cream in it and everything,” Cook commented, taking a careful sip. “Aww, you remembered.”

“Well, and there was that video someone sold to TMZ of you throwing black coffee at a roadie last month.”

“Look, he knew better,” Cook replied, though he did feel badly about that particular incident. “He’d worked for us for months, he knew how I took my coffee.”

“You’re lucky he didn’t sue you,” Michael said casually.

“I’m gonna throw this at _you_ in a second,” Cook threatened. Michael barked a laugh.

“Mhmm. Now, I hope you’re comfortable because I’ve been charged with giving you your new schedule,” Michael explained, now producing a sheet of paper.

“What!” Cook protested, almost spilling boiling coffee on himself. “But I already got a schedule, what are you talking about?”

“So, yeah, I guess someone decided you were getting off too easy, so you’ve been swapped with one of the new instructors.”

Cook didn’t even need to look at the schedule. He knew what new instructors got charged with.

“They wouldn’t dare,” Cook said seriously. “I will knock down Aunt Paula’s door in protest if they did.”

“They did and you’d better not,” Michael explained. “She’s like the only one sticking up for you right now in this whole debacle.”

Reluctantly, Cook set his coffee down on his bedside table and took the new schedule from Michael.

_8:00 -- Breakfast_  
9:00 -- Junior Rock Basics  
10:30 -- Guitar for Beginners (Juniors)  
12:00 -- Lunch  
1:00 -- Rock Style (Juniors)  
2:30 -- KidVentures 

Cook looked up at Michael. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

“No, and you’ll need to watch your mouth working with the kiddos,” Michael answered.

“What the hell is KidVentures?” Cook asked, scrunching his face.

“You don’t remember? Maybe that came after you’d left,” Michael replied. “Walking outside and discovering nature’s music?”

Cook scowled. “Ugh, sounds horrible. Also? Hippie weird. Did Aunt Paula come up with that?”

Michael didn’t say anything, but made a face that clearly said, “Yes, of course she did.”

“How am I supposed to teach a class I know nothing about?” Cook asked, hoping he might be able to get out of it.

“Gotcha covered, mate,” Michael answered as he pulled a thick handbook from seemingly nowhere. “You might want to find a minute to read the section in there about it.”

Cook groaned and fell back on his bed. Could this day get any worse? It was only ten after six and he’d already been given what amounted to babysitting duty _and_ he had a bunch of stuff to read.

Breakfast went way too fast despite the fact that Cook tried to drag it out as long as possible. He was not looking forward to working with the juniors all day. He hated juniors. He hated juniors when he _was_ a junior. Time could not pass quickly enough for him to grow up and be able to hang out with the high schoolers who had bands back at home and snuck out at night to raid the cantina.

After quickly looking over the instructors’ manual, Cook decided he would just wing it. Who knew better how to become a star than him anyway? Nobody, that’s who.

Junior Rock Basics was a terrible class. It was supposed to consist of introducing basic elements of rock music to seven year olds, which really meant a lot of explaining who the Beatles were and trying to avoid the real reasons Jimi Hendrix and Janis Joplin didn’t make it to thirty. Not only that, but it sure seemed like seven year olds had a lot of damn energy at nine in the morning. They seriously would not shut up for two seconds straight the entire time.

The beginning guitar class was better, if only because Cook got to sit down for awhile. It might have been worse on the noise level, however, in the sense that no little kid had the strength to hold down a guitar string properly so every note sounded awful. Towards the end of class nearly everyone was crying because their fingers were sore.

At lunch, Cook skipped the dining hall to go find some aspirin or a beer or maybe both. He only found aspirin.

He gave up five minutes into Rock Style because he didn’t understand what it even meant, so he just let the kids run around screaming at one another for an hour and a half.

By the time he had to conduct the ridiculous KidVentures class he was almost glad. At least the noise wouldn’t reverberate around the room back at him if they were outside.

“Mr. Cook?” one of the early arrivals said as soon as she came into the room where they were supposed to meet. She put out her hand, but Cook didn’t take it.

“Please don’t call me that,” he said, rubbing his forehead. “Mr. Cook is my dad.”

“I believe in keeping my contacts professional, Mr. Cook,” the little girl replied matter-of-factly. Now that Cook took a good look at her, he saw she carried a clipboard under her arm and a small backpack.

“It’s David,” Cook said, “and I won’t tell you again. What are you, some kind of mini PA or something?”

The girl rolled her eyes. 

“Manager,” she said. “I wouldn’t normally take these fluffy explore-your-inner-being classes, but I realize I need to understand the people I’m working with.”

Cook made a face. This little girl was reminding him an awful lot of his own representation right then and it was giving him another headache.

“Look, kid,” Cook started, but she cut him off.

“Miranda,” she corrected.

“You sure you don’t want to be called Ms. Whatever Your Last Name Is?” Cook asked smartly.

“You’re the teacher, I’m the student, sir,” she replied. “That doesn’t seem appropriate.”

“Of course not,” Cook mumbled, just about ready to be a level of inappropriate she had probably never experienced in her young life. Other kids were beginning to gather now and Cook took a quick roll call.

“First item of business,” Cook said as he reached into his leather jacket pocket. “If you’re forced to go outside into the daylight, always carry your sunglasses. Aviators or Wayfarers being the most acceptable choices.”

Though he’d expected himself to be the only one who would be putting on sunglasses, it turned out that a lot of kids were prepared for such a recommendation.

“Isn’t that more of a Rock Style subject?” Miranda piped up beside him.

“Miranda,” Cook replied without even looking at her. “Please shut up.”

Cook managed to lead the kids down to the lake and back and around two short hiking paths before he ran out of ideas of what to do with them. Ideas that mainly consisted of, well, walking and being as silent as possible. “To absorb the music of nature,” he’d told them. Resting his pounding head was more like it.

They’d managed to use up a whole thirty minutes.

“You guys wanna just skip rocks on the lake for awhile?” Cook asked the clearly bored group of kids in front of him.

The reply consisted mostly of shrugs and “Why not?”, so they made their way back to the water a second time.

About ten minutes of this and everyone was bored again, but Cook didn’t care. He had no idea how he was supposed to carry on like this all summer. He hated both nature and kids, and there were bugs every damn where to boot.

“Davey, hi!”

Cook looked up to find his aunt briskly making her way towards him.

“Aunt Paula,” he replied, trying to sound cheerful as she nearly suffocated him in a hug. “I didn’t think I’d ever see you.”

“Super busy this year, Davey,” she answered, beaming. Cook actually really hated being called Davey, but somehow he could never bring himself to tell her that. She was just too damn cheerful.

“How’s it going?” Paula asked, concern already on her face.

“He’s cursed six times in the last forty minutes,” Miranda reported, scaring Cook half to death. He had no idea she’d been so close.

“Miranda, what’d I say about talking?” Cook scolded. “And sneaking up on me?”

“To do neither,” the girl replied. Aunt Paula raised an eyebrow.

“Okay, everybody!” she suddenly called out to the nearby kids, clapping her hands. “I need everyone to listen carefully, okay? I want each of you to go out and find three things we could use as instruments from nature, but don’t pull anything off of trees or anything like that! Only if it’s already laying on the ground. You have five minutes, go!”

The kids scattered as if someone had announced there was free ice cream somewhere, and Aunt Paula took a seat next to Cook on the thick log he’d been inhabiting.

“What’s going on with you, Davey?” Paula asked, laying a hand on Cook’s arm. “You seem so angry these days.”

“I am angry!” Cook spat out, louder than he’d intended. “I’ve been marooned at this godforsaken camp and I’m being forced to do the worst jobs.”

“I meant before you came,” his aunt replied softly. “I never expected my sweet little nephew to act out so much as an adult. What’s gotten you so off track?”

“Nothing.”

“David.”

If Aunt Paula called him David, he knew it was serious, but he also knew what she was doing. She wanted him to open up, talk about his feelings. Explore the roots of his frustrations and all that kind of stupid garbage. David Cook didn’t have feelings though, no rock star did. He was not going to fall for her tricks.

“Look,” he said bitterly, “I know what you’re trying to do. I know Mom probably roped you into this because this just seems like one of her cute, creative ideas, doesn’t it? Well, let me tell you -- you think this is going to work like some kind of rehab or something. That doing the most hated jobs at camp is going to make me suddenly grateful for what I’ve got out in the real world. But in reality it’s just pissing me off even more!”

By the time he’d finished his rant he was nearly shouting. It didn’t matter though because he’d had just about enough. The entire day had been one continuous headache, and now that he’d said it out loud he was even more annoyed about this ridiculous situation. They should’ve sent him on a relaxing vacation or something, not found ways to make him more furious.

“Now, David!” Aunt Paula replied, pulling her hand from his arm. “You’re overreacting--”

But Cook couldn’t listen anymore. Standing up from the log, he turned on his heel and headed straight for the forest land where no one was really supposed to go since trails hadn’t been cut through it yet. Aunt Paula shouted after him, but he ignored her. He didn’t need this treatment, everyone acting like he was a petulant little child. For God’s sake, they’d _tricked_ him into coming instead of being upfront with him. How immature was that?

Just as he passed the treeline, he could hear the faint, curious voice that had been piercing his brain all afternoon.

“Mr. Cook! Where are you going?”

He didn’t turn around.

~*~

It was easier than David thought to grab his lunch and then immediately leave the mess hall. It was always crowded enough at the beginning of the hour what with everyone pushing to get in line that no one probably even noticed David’s escape. That didn’t keep him from sort of jogging all the way to the Jonas brothers’ cabin, however. He was certain none of them were supposed to take lunch out of the dining hall.

It didn’t dawn on David that he’d be properly meeting Nick’s brothers at lunch. This made him slightly more nervous than he already was, which in turn made him less hungry. How people could eat when meeting new people, David had no idea.

Nick’s oldest brother (Kevin, he learned) met him at the door and ushered him into the cabin. David paused in the doorway for a minute to look around because it was bigger than the one he’d been assigned to and had a large table in the middle, also unlike his. He didn’t know the cabins were actually different, so it suddenly made more sense why anyone would fight for them at registration. Joe (Nick’s other brother) had to remind him to sit down before his food got cold.

It turned out that Kevin and Joe were about the nicest people on earth, and David felt silly for being so anxious about meeting them. Maybe they were actually popular for a good reason, instead of all the bad reasons people seemed to be popular at school. There were a few tense moments, however, where it became abundantly clear that the Jonas family wasn’t exactly poor and that maybe the boys took advantage of that from time to time. David kept his mouth shut though because he didn’t want to be rude. He could see that on the surface, from a distance, maybe people would think they were snobby or self-important. Maybe they even were a tiny little bit. It was funny though how if you got the chance to sit down with people like that in private, they could be really different than how they act on the outside.

David made it back just in time to join his composition class at 1:30. Usually he would’ve been a little bit early, seeing as he preferred to be at the front of class all the time, but having completely lost track of time he had to slide in at the back. Having to do this reminded him why he liked to be at the front -- it was harder to see and everyone in front of him became a potential distraction. Luckily, after a few minutes of lecture from their instructor, the class was set free to work on a group composition activity. David quickly scanned the room to find Carly, who he saw stand up from the front row and swirl around with searching eyes. He waved at her and she came to meet him at the back of the class.

“David, where were you at lunch?” she asked immediately upon getting within earshot. Everyone was shuffling around them, bumping their elbows this way and that in search of group partners.

“Oh, sorry,” David apologized, trying to take an instruction sheet from someone who was passing them around. “I got invited to lunch with the Jonas brothers.”

Carly’s eyes went wide and her jaw went slack.

“What?” she asked, shaking her head so that her large hoop earrings swayed from side to side.

“Nick asked me to have lunch with them this morning…”

“David!” Carly cried, her eyebrows knitted tightly. “How could you do such a thing?”

David’s heart sank as he realized Carly was perhaps a little upset with him.

“I just… you know, I’m trying to make friends here,” David explained honestly.

“Didn’t I tell you not to make friends with _him_ though?” Carly asked bitterly.

Hearing the hint of venom in her voice made David take a step back, feeling confused and under attack.

“Well, not exactly,” he replied, slightly shaken. “I mean, you’ve never actually said why--”

“Hey, do you guys need a third member?” someone suddenly asked from David’s left. “Everyone else pretty much has a group, I guess.”

Carly stared at the newcomer as if he’d just walked into her private home instead of approaching her in the middle of class.

“Yeah, of course,” David answered automatically, actually glad for the intrusion. He’d had such a nice time with the Jonases and now Carly was quickly ruining it with her bad attitude. “Come on, let’s sit over here.”

The three sat at an empty table near the back, all the while Carly staring at David with laser-hot eyes.

“I’m Zac,” the new guy introduced himself as they sat down. He flashed an electric smile, but even that wasn’t going to cheer Carly up in the least.

“Nice to meet you, Zac,” she said shortly. “You wanna read the instructions for us while I have a word with my friend here?”

Zac seemed surprised, but agreed.

“David,” Carly hissed at him as she pulled him slightly away. “I thought you’d get the hint that Nick is bad news.”

This really annoyed David, and it saddened him to think his otherwise pleasant friend could act this way.

“I got the hint,” David bravely replied, “that _you_ think he’s bad news. He’s always been very nice to me and I enjoyed having lunch with him and his brothers. Really, you’ve never given me a real reason not to talk to them. They’re nice.”

Carly looked like she’d been slapped in the face. As much as David hated that, he still knew better than to just accept other people’s opinions without good cause. Unless Carly was going to do some explaining, he’d just have to risk her being angry with him.

“Are you guys talking about Nick Jonas?” Zac piped up from across the table. Carly’s stare could’ve killed a man. “He’s ridiculously cute, don’t you think?”

“Do you mind?” Carly snapped at him.

“Maybe we should focus on our assignment?” David suggested, feeling both annoyed and sad. This conversation didn’t need to go any further at the moment, especially in front of a stranger.

Focus on their assignment they did, though Carly didn’t say another word to David for the remainder of the class. At 3:00 when their instructor had them stop and turn in what they’d finished so far, Carly picked up her things and headed straight out the door without giving a second look to her group mates. While on the one hand David couldn’t believe how ridiculously she was acting, on the other he hated that he’d kind of had a fight with her. Fighting with people really wasn’t a thing that he did, and his heart hurt the whole time he was packing up his stuff to leave.

“Hey,” Zac said, interrupting David’s busy thoughts. “You wanna hang out until dinner? I’m kind of new and haven’t really met many people yet, so I was hoping…”

Zac had these brilliantly blue eyes that almost made a person forget what he was saying and very nearly hypnotised David into automatically saying yes. But at the same time, he didn’t feel like talking to anyone for awhile. The more he thought about Carly, the more upset he got. There was really only one thing that helped him in times like this.

“Sorry, Zac,” David sighed, feeling awful. “I’ve… I kind of need to go do something else. But hey, look for me at dinner and we’ll sit together, yeah?”

This seemed okay with Zac, so at least David hadn’t made two people angry with him in one day.

After everyone had left, David slowly made his way back to his cabin where he quickly dropped off his things. A cool breeze had picked up outside, so before leaving again he grabbed a light sweater and his scarf, something his mom had fussed at him about when he’d been packing, arguing that it could be cold at night. Turned out she was right as usual, of course.

While everyone else headed for the gymnasium and lakeside to spend their afternoon free time, David headed in the opposite direction towards the thick forest. Nothing cleared his mind quite like a walk alone in the woods.

~*~

Cook continued walking, kicking a rock in the path with his boot. He was so mad he considered never returning to camp. Wouldn’t that just be the funniest thing ever? If he just continued walking and walking and left everyone wondering whatever became of him? It’d be like a family legend. “He walked off into the forest and was never seen again. We never should’ve treated him like a baby.”

The trees grew thicker around him, indicating he’d made it to the dead zone between Camp Star and Camp Rock. A line existed somewhere around there, but even he remembered that some years ago the old fence that followed that line had finally given up and collapsed. As far as he knew that fence had yet to be replaced, though bits of the old one probably still gave a good indication of its placement. The thing was, the underbrush had grown up so much that any little pieces remaining were probably lost under the ferns. He could’ve been anywhere by then.

He’d been leaning one hand against a tree for balance when a sound met his ear, one that was decidedly non-foresty. In fact, Cook could’ve sworn that the birds had stopped singing and the squirrels had stopped scurrying in order to allow for this surprise. Holding perfectly still, Cook finally made out very faint singing.

It wasn’t exactly unusual to hear people singing around camp. It was, after all, something like a hundred combined acres of musical expression across two campgrounds. But to be perfectly honest, a lot of that musical expression was pretty terrible. Especially since he was almost certainly on Camp Rock grounds by now, and everyone knew that Camp Rock had an open policy as far as admittance was concerned. As in, they didn’t even have to send in an audition tape or anything. Pretty dumb in his opinion, but that was probably why Camp Star produced more superstars than Camp Rock ever did. So it definitely surprised him to be confronted by this soft but pleasant singing coming from maybe fifty feet away.

The overgrown shrubbery kept his line of sight obscured, but the voice continued to permeate the air, slowly rising as the singer apparently felt more confident in his solitude. Cook felt badly for about a half a second, but then got over it because it turned out the kid could really sing. He wondered if he should try to recruit this obvious talent to Camp Star immediately.

Wanting to get a closer look at this individual (because honestly, he was quickly falling in love with that voice, he might as well attach a face to it as well), Cook tried moving around the thick tree as quietly as possible. A squirrel darted across his foot, startling him, which no matter how hard he tried to prevent it, sent him into a helicoptering-arm forward freefall, face down into some sticker bushes.

The singing stopped abruptly.

A beat of dead quiet held the world on pause until Cook could hear his forest companion hustling in the opposite direction, surely embarrassed that he’d been caught so far out from camp.

“Wait,” Cook tried to call out, though he was still fighting off some sort of vine wrapped around his ankle. “Ugh, don’t go away, you idiot,” he muttered under his breath.

But it was too late. By the time Cook could get to where he thought the mystery singer might have been hanging around, the place had been completely deserted. Another squirrel -- or heck, it was probably the same damn one -- timidly crept out from behind a nearby tree, carefully sniffing the ground.

“You son of a bitch,” he grumbled at the jumpy rodent. “You know in some places of the world people eat squirrels.”

The squirrel looked up apologetically at him, nose twitching.

“Well, go on!” Cook hollered, stomping his foot. “Go cause some chaos somewhere else, why don’t you!”

The squirrel was of course frightened and darted towards the nearest tree, practically flying up the side of it and disappearing into the dense branches. Looking around, Cook tried to decide what to do next. The original reason he’d come out walking was lost to him now as all he could think about was that voice he’d heard. It wasn’t even just that it was good, but more like _angelic_. On pitch, even without music or anything else to guide it. For one fleeting moment he felt intense jealousy that he himself didn’t have a voice like that.

Still staring in the general direction of the squirrel’s departure, Cook’s eyes began to wander as he continued to puzzle over the mystery singer. Eventually his gaze drifted to one of the sticker bushes that grew at the base of the squirrel’s tree, where something seemed to be stuck on it.

“What the hell?” Cook muttered out loud, moving towards the object.

A long, blue-gray scarf hung by a thread on one of the bush’s outstretched branches, dangling into a pool of fabric on the ground.

“Who the hell wears a scarf in July?” Cook continued, apparently not noticing that he wasn’t talking to anyone at all. He reached out to untangle the piece of cloth, which he found to be very light and airy.

“Just like Camp Rockers to wear fashionable scarves,” Cook huffed, running the soft fabric through his fingers. “Goddamn hipsters.”

But even as he grumbled about ridiculous fashion trends and _real_ rock and roll attire, Cook made his way back in the direction of Camp Star, blue-gray hipster scarf gripped tightly in his hands.

~*~

David’s heart was racing, apparently trying really hard to escape through his throat. He’d been walking along quite innocently when it happened, glad that he’d chosen to go for a walk. Walks always made him feel so much better. Being upset about things always led him down a path of resentment and sadness far beyond what the situation ever called for. He supposed it was because he was a very internal person who thought about things way too much. But the fresh air and smell of pine trees helped ease his mind, as he knew it would.

Singing birds filled the forest that day, which added in bringing a smile to David’s face. Birds were some of his favorite creatures on earth and before long he found himself calling out to them in his own song, something he hadn’t done since he’d left home. It felt so good to just sing, especially out where no one could hear him. He got nervous singing around other people, but out here it just felt so liberating.

Squirrels jumped from tree to tree and at one point David stopped to watch one digging in the dirt, having managed to find some kind of nut for himself.

“Well, hello, little guy,” David said to him. “What are you up to?”

The squirrel froze, clearly terrified of David. He clutched his nut closer to his chest.

“Oh, don’t worry! I’m not gonna take your food.”

The squirrel didn’t seem to believe him and darted off into the underbrush.

David resumed walking and singing, and soon he had nearly forgotten why he’d even needed to go on a walk in the first place.

And then it happened.

Not too far from where he was standing, the sound of a breaking branch caused David to stop dead in his tracks. He’d walked out far enough that surely no one else could’ve been out there. He waited another second just in case he heard another sound. Because his brain was really good at coming up with random ideas all the time, he suddenly pictured Little Red Riding Hood or some other fairy tale creature being attacked in the woods. All of his anxiety suddenly rushed back in, paralyzing him on the spot. His English teacher, Mrs. Corcoran, had very distinctly pointed out that fairy tales were meant to be _warnings_. Warnings like, “Don’t go into the forest unless you want to be eaten by a wolf or murdered by a lunatic.”

David just knew he was about to be murdered by a lunatic.

A second cracking stick and David wasted no time turning and running as fast as in could in the direction from which he’d come.

~*~

A normal person might have given up on the strange afternoon incident as soon as he got back to camp and was immediately barraged with questions about where he’d been and how irresponsible it was of him to suddenly leave a group of kids like that. It wasn’t like he would’ve actually left them in any other circumstance; he wasn’t a monster. Aunt Paula had been there, so what was the big deal?

Anyway, he had better things to think about, and think about them he did. He was distracted all through dinner going over every detail about the episode with the mystery forest singer. Michael had to remind him to eat before his chicken fingers got cold.

By seven o’clock, Cook had made up his mind. He’d just have to go to Camp Rock in the morning and make an official search. It had to be easy enough to blend in, he knew the two camps operated very similarly. It was still only a couple days into camp, surely no one could be familiar enough with everyone to know he didn’t belong.

Of course the quickest, most direct route was across the lake.

Even if Michael hadn’t reminded him of his canoe troubles as a kid, the sight of the boathouse sent a shiver down Cook’s spine. Michael may have kidded about it, but that had been something that genuinely scared him. He’d managed to struggle his way halfway across, but his canoe had capsized at the deepest part, putting him in pretty severe danger, especially since it’d been the middle of the night. But he’d also been twelve, and having grown up he just knew he had to be a better boater by now. After wolfing down his breakfast, he set out for the boat launch, not even caring that he was supposed to be supervising a class just then. Considering how he’d stormed off the day before, there would surely be someone checking on him -- Aunt Paula or Michael or someone -- so he knew the kids would be in good hands soon enough.

Getting the canoe into the water was harder than he remembered. How his twelve year old self had managed it, he had no idea because the thing must’ve weighed at least eighty pounds. Regardless, he got himself and two oars into it and peered out across the lake. The lakeside cabins of Camp Rock were directly in front of him, though no one seemed to be around. Surely the Camp Rock campers were off in their classes as well.

If hauling the canoe down to the water had been difficult, paddling was an entirely different story altogether. His arms immediately started hurting, which maybe explained why his boat had capsized the last time he’d ever tried to do this. Controlling the damn thing was tricky at best, but after a few false starts he managed to get it going. Once he had a little momentum behind him it was a bit easier, but still hard work. He hoped he didn’t sweat too much between now and actually coming face to face with someone.

Barely halfway across Cook’s arms were like jelly. There was no way he could keep this up for much longer. But at this point it would’ve taken him the same amount of effort to turn back as to go on, so with burning shoulders and an already aching back, he pushed on. Keeping the front end pointed in the right direction became a problem, and he drifted a little too far to the left or right on more than one occasion.

Cook didn’t realize he’d been holding his breath until the canoe gently bumped up against Camp Rock shore, at which point he let out a huge sigh of relief. He’d ended up a little downshore from where he’d been hoping, but maybe that was for the better. His canoe was painted bright blue and silver after all, with a garish star pattern along the side. Camp Rock canoes were orange and more rustic looking, so hiding his aquatic transportation in some thick reeds turned out to be a good solution.

The problem, however, was that from where he’d landed he’d have to wade up to shore since he hadn’t come in at a proper place. Reluctantly, he stepped into the shallow water, his jeans immediately soaking up to his mid-calf. Worse, it was no condition for his boots to be in, so all in all this idea had been pretty terrible up to this point. He’d just started grumbling about how cold the water was against his leg when a fish leapt in front of him, scaring him half to death. What the hell was it with wild animals jumping at him all the time? He didn’t have a lot of time to consider the answer, because the distraction had caused him to misstep, and he went down like a giant tree on a windy day.

The good news was that he’d made it close enough to shore to fall at least halfway onto it; the bad news was that more than just the cuffs of his jeans were wet now. He scrambled to get out of the water, but he was still soaking wet from about the waist down. He stood there for a long moment, just dripping on the shore. Maybe he’d air out enough by the time he saw someone they wouldn’t really notice. He was wearing his darkest jeans, after all, so as long as he didn’t _smell_ like lake, maybe it’d be okay.

He felt a little better about the whole situation until he glanced out across the water to find that his canoe was slowly drifting away.

“Are you kidding me?” Cook bellowed, helplessly watching from the shore. Panic set in for about a half a second before he remembered that he could just walk back the long way around, and at least he hadn’t nearly drowned this time. He probably didn’t need to be pushing his luck.

Luckily, by the time he’d walked up to the main road, his jeans had sort of aired out enough so that they at least didn’t _look_ like they were soaking. Or he hoped they didn’t. It didn’t matter anyway, there wasn’t a whole lot he could do about it now.

Chatter suddenly started filling the air around him, and Cook knew instantly that class must’ve just let out. This assumption was confirmed when he rounded a bend in the road, only to be met with a mess of campers wandering about between the buildings. This had to be the first good thing to happen to him all morning; it’d be easy to blend into the crowd.

“Hey, excuse me!”

A boy of about fourteen suddenly appeared in front of Cook, seemingly out of nowhere. For a brief second Cook thought maybe he’d already been caught.

“Hey, sorry,” the kid breathed heavily, as if he’d been running. “Do you know where the trumpet class is being held? My schedule got changed this morning so I don’t know where anything is.”

Cook, of course, had no clue where the trumpet class was being held, but it did give him an idea.

“Sorry, dude, no idea,” Cook informed the kid. “I’m a little turned around myself.”

The boy didn’t take too long to be disappointed before he rushed off to ask another group of kids.

Seeing a couple of campers chatting at a nearby tree, Cook thought he’d try his luck at being a lost little boy himself.

“Um, excuse me, can you help me?” he said to an older boy with dark hair and golden brown skin. To be honest, Cook had maybe also picked these particular campers to talk to because they were awfully cute as well, which didn’t hurt.

“Er, sure?” the boy responded, sounding doubtful. His friend, a guy about the same age with sandy brown hair and bright blue eyes, stared at him like he’d just encountered an alien.

“I’m just a little bit turned around,” Cook explained, trying to figure out what his nice voice was. He maybe hadn’t used it in awhile. “Can you direct me to the voice class? They switched my classes so now I don’t know where to go.”

“Why are you all wet?” asked the bright-eyed one.

“Pardon?”

“Your jeans are soaking wet,” he repeated.

“They’re barely damp,” Cook said, slightly annoyed. Bright Eyes’ expression grew more surprised, if that were even possible.

“Well, I’ll show you where your class is,” the dark haired one said. “I’m David, by the way, this is Zac.”

“David Cook,” Cook replied.

“You look familiar,” Zac spoke up. “Have I seen you on TV?”

“You sure ask a lot of questions,” Cook commented, trying to divert from the topic. The last thing he needed was people recognizing him, especially for less than ideal reasons.

Zac’s mouth clamped closed as he jerked his head back in surprise.

“The voice class is in the same building as my recording studio class,” David explained, finally returning to what Cook was really interested in. “I’ll be happy to take you.”

“That would be awesome,” Cook replied with a smile.

“I’m gonna have to catch you later, David,” Zac said, already heading in the opposite direction. “My next class is all the way across camp.”

“Bye, Zac!” David called. “Okay, David, why don’t you just follow me and--”

“Go ahead and call me Cook,” Cook interrupted. “That’s what all my friends call me. It’s easier.”

“Well, Cook,” David began again. “Just follow me. It’s just in this building up here.”

It was only a short walk to the appropriate building, and upon arrival they found that a sign had been hung on the door of the voice classroom saying that they would be meeting in the next door recording studio that day.

“Great!” David said upon reading the sign. “That’s my class. You can hang out with me. I mean, if you want to…”

Cook beamed at him. His luck had made a serious upturn. The class merge would mean that each instructor would assume he was in the other class, a perfect cover. And getting to hang out with a cute guy for the next couple hours? It was like the rock gods were suddenly smiling down on him.

~*~

Friends kept falling into David’s lap like it was Christmas or something. He was starting to feel like maybe he should just _live_ at Camp Rock if this was going to keep up. Not only that, but _cute guys_ kept befriending him, which, not that he was superficial like that and was paying any attention, but… he was totally paying attention.

David Cook was like no one else at Camp Rock. In fact, when David first saw him approach him and Zac he thought maybe he’d mysteriously wandered out of the woods after being lost or something. Cook dressed more like real life rock stars, with tattered jeans and clunky jewelry; his hair was a complete rock and roll nightmare. David wondered if he’d forgotten to pack a comb. (Also, David thought he might have even seen a _tattoo_ peeking out from under his clothes.)

But other than being a change of scenery style-wise, Cook seemed like a pretty nice guy. Rough around the edges maybe, but still nice. Of course, David usually found the nice in everyone, so maybe others wouldn’t have agreed.

The two classes crowded into the recording studio, a space that was a little too small for so many people. David found himself smashed between some kid he didn’t know and Cook’s warm, leather-jacketed arm. Touching people wasn’t exactly his favorite thing in the world, but he found himself only wishing that the weird kid on his left would move away.

“Good morning, everyone,” the voice instructor greeted them. “Now, I know it’s a little crowded in here, so I hope this is gonna work out. Voice students, we’re gonna help the recording studio students practice what they’ve learned so far, which will in turn give us a chance to record ourselves. By the end of camp I’m hoping we can use these recordings to see how much we’ve improved by then.”

There was general consensus in the room, and David thought it was a great idea. Because they didn’t have a whole lot of time, the recording got underway pretty quickly, with David’s classmates taking turns with each voice class student. Interestingly, Cook was really invested in listening closely and asking a lot of questions about each singer. David only vaguely knew a few of them, but he did his best to answer all of Cook’s questions. For a fleeting moment he entertained the thought that Cook was an undercover talent scout, but then dismissed the idea. He could really let his imagination run wild sometimes.

When it was David’s turn to run the recording equipment, he invited Cook to come be his singer.

“Oh, no,” Cook said, suddenly looking nervous. “I, uh… my voice is a little tired today, I’d better skip.”

David thought this was a little strange; his speaking voice was perfectly normal as far as he could tell. But he also knew singers had to be careful with their voices, so he let it go. He worked with a slightly plump, dark featured girl instead.

At about five minutes to the end of class, David’s recording instructor, Mr. Young, got everyone’s attention once again.

“I’m happy to report that we got through everyone! Great job everyone!”

There was polite applause around the room.

“Now, before you go, I have a little announcement. Kelly, will you pass these fliers around for me?”

Kelly took the brightly colored stack and started handing them to each student. David, who happened to be sitting fairly close to her, got one right away. The shocking pink paper might have blinded anyone, but David’s attention was immediately drawn to the headline.

**FINAL JAM: Your chance to shine!**

He didn’t get to read much further before his instructor continued.

“We’ve got exciting news this year. Final Jam is always a thrilling time for all of us, when we get to really show off all the hard work we’ve done all summer,” Mr. Young said. “But this year we’re gonna shake it up a little. We’re inviting Camp Star to join the competition.”

There was a mixed reaction to this announcement, some of excitement but also some groans. Personally, David thought it’d be fun to compete against the other camp; it’d be interesting to see what kind of work they were doing over there.

“Now, I hear some of our veteran campers groaning a little bit,” Mr. Young observed. “It’s true that when we tried this a couple years ago they beat the pants off of us. But I’m confident that we’re ready to take them on again, aren’t you? Go, Camp Rock!”

Again, the reaction probably wasn’t exactly what Mr. Young had been anticipating, but it had improved at least a little.

“This is exciting,” David commented as everyone began gathering their things. “Won’t it be fun to see what the other camp’s kids are like?”

“Are there other voice classes during the day?” Cook asked, apparently unaware that the last five minutes had even happened.

“Uh, I think this is the only one,” David replied, confused. Cook didn’t seem very happy at all. Besides, shouldn’t he have known that anyway?

Cook sighed and got up from his seat.

“Thanks for your help, David,” he said abruptly. “Maybe I’ll see you around.”

~*~

The long walk back to Camp Star ended up being good for Cook, seeing as he felt completely defeated after all the effort he’d put into getting to Camp Rock. Not one of the voice students came close to the one he’d heard in the forest the day before, and most of the class had been female anyway. He’d definitely heard a male voice before, he just knew it.

He stormed into his cabin, slamming the door behind him.

“Hey!” Michael scolded him from across the room. “The hinges are gonna fall off if you keep that up. Where have you been?”

Cook ignored him and threw himself onto his bed.

“Everything is terrible,” Cook grumbled, staring up at the ceiling. “I mean, it can’t be that difficult to find an amazing singer, can it? Especially in a lot like that one.”

“You’re talking crazy again,” Michael said, coming to join him on the edge of the bed. “You want to explain?”

Cook flashed an angry expression at his friend.

“Why are you here?” he asked. “Shouldn’t you be out guiding the next generation to superstardom or something?”

“Well,” Michael answered, unaffected by Cook’s cranky attitude. “It’s lunchtime now, plus my break period is right after.”

“Break period!” Cook spat, even more angry now. “How come I don’t have a break period in my schedule?”

“Maybe because you keep running off,” Michael explained coolly. “Your kids are fine, by the way.”

Cook rolled his eyes and stared back at the ceiling. “And probably better off. I’m terrible at this job.”

“I don’t know how you can possibly know that when you’re never even here,” Michael observed. “Seriously, where did you go?”

Cook sighed and turned to look at Michael again. “Camp Rock.”

“What!” Michael exclaimed, surprise filling his face. He definitely wasn’t expecting that answer.

Cook sat up a little, leaning on one elbow.

“There is someone over there,” he explained, “who has this like, magical voice. I swear the devil got a soul in exchange for that voice or something. But I don’t know who he is so I went to find him.”

“Uh,” Michael stuttered, clearly still in shock. “Are you hearing voices in your head now?”

“Yes!” Cook answered loudly. “I mean, sort of. When I took off yesterday--”

“Mhmm,” Michael hummed sternly.

“I was wandering through the stupid overgrown bits that are between the camps,” Cook went on, trying to ignore Michael’s disciplinary stare. “And I heard _a voice_. Singing. Like, amazing angelic singing.”

“Maybe it was a sign from God,” Michael said, smirking. “David, you’ve been a very bad boy. Please turn your cares upon Heaven.”

Cook threw a pillow directly at Michael’s stupid face.

“Be serious,” he said bitterly.

“ _You_ be serious!” Michael retorted. “You’re sure it was someone from Camp Rock?”

“It had to be,” Cook replied. “I was way over on their side.”

“Well, if he’s so good then maybe he’ll be at Final Jam,” Michael observed.

“And?” Cook said. “How does their end-of-summer talent show thing help _me_?”

“Are you just the most inattentive person on earth, or what?” Michael asked. “They told us last night at dinner that Camp Rock invited Camp Star to participate this year.”

“Did they?” Cook asked, genuinely surprised. “I might have been distracted, I guess.”

“You’re incredible,” Michael sighed. “I’m gonna guess that you don’t remember me saying that we should volunteer to be judges then, right? I mean, are you listening to me even fifty percent of the time?”

“Wait, what?” Cook asked, suddenly interested. “What did you say?”

“I knew it!” Michael said. “I’m just gonna start saying everything twice to you, maybe you’ll get at least some of it.”

“Explain the judge situation to me,” Cook replied, a little irritated.

“They asked for volunteers to be judges,” Michael answered, looking exasperated by Cook. “Judges have to be camp veterans, the more years the better. Obviously, they’d pick you. It’d be good for you to volunteer anyway, before your aunt finally loses her cool with you.”

“That’ll never happen,” Cook replied. “I’ve never seen her angry in all my life.”

“In my experience you don’t want to push it with people like that,” Michael suggested. “They snap eventually and it’s not very pretty. Anyway, are you saying you’ll go down to the office and sign up with me?”

“Let’s go right now!” Cook demanded, jumping to his feet. He’d hoped to find opportunities to keep looking for his mystery singer over the next couple of weeks, but Michael was right. Final Jam would attract all of the best talent of _both_ camps.

Cook was so happy he didn’t even mind returning to his afternoon classes.

~*~

David found it curious that a few days had passed without seeing Cook on his way to class again. For the first day or two he waited for him around the same spot where they’d met, in hopes of walking with him to class. It was strange because the more he thought about this newcomer the more he kind of really liked him. They’d spent less than two hours together, and they were clearly not cut from the same cloth, but there was still some kind of connection there. Cook seemed to be serious most of the time, but also curious about others. In between singers that day they’d chatted about random stuff -- David had rambled about his sister’s cat and Cook had talked about his brothers back home. If David had ever experienced anything even remotely close to love at first sight, this was it.

Well, crush at first sight, anyway.

But as the days wore on, David started to wonder if Cook had been some kind of figment of his imagination. Because even if Cook had decided not to be in that class anymore and changed again, David never saw him at the nightly campfires or in the mess hall. He never saw him lounging in the media center or taking a stroll by the boat dock.

So maybe that had been it, maybe David Cook wasn’t really real. Or maybe David had scared him away. That happened all the time back at home. David was so weird that people at school couldn’t wait to get away from him, it seemed. It figured his lucky streak with new friends had to end some time.

On the upside, however, Nick had asked David to start meeting with him during their free time in order to prepare for Final Jam. Although David enjoyed his free afternoons, Carly had outright stopped talking to him by now and because Jason, Brooke, and Syesha were closer friends to her than him, he knew it’d be better for him to make an exit rather than try to divide them. So really, Nick was his only friend at the moment.

He’d been right then, that his strange streak of new friends had to come crashing down eventually.

David made his way up to the meeting hall where he knew Nick would be waiting for him.

Just as he got within a few feet of the open door, however, he stopped dead in his tracks at the sound of raised voices coming from the room.

“I want you to stop leading him on,” a familiar woman’s voice was saying. There was no denying the accent -- it was definitely Carly.

“What on earth are you talking about?” Nick could be heard replying.

“You’re such a snake, Nick,” Carly spat, her voice carrying through the empty hall. “David’s a sweet kid and I won’t have you ruining him.”

“Since when do I take orders from you, I wonder?” Nick retorted, his voice sharp. “David’s my friend, and I’m sorry you can’t handle it. Just because you hate me for no reason doesn’t mean everyone has to.”

“Look, Nick Jonas, I know what you do to people. You build them up, give them hope, make them feel like they’re on top of the world. But it always turns out that you’ve got some ulterior motive, some way that _you’ll_ benefit. It stops now.”

“I do not!” Nick protested loudly. David took a step back he was so surprised Nick could ever sound so vicious.

“Then why did you do it to me!” Carly shouted in reply.

David’s heart sank right into his stomach; it was obvious Carly was fighting back tears.

Silence filled the hall for a long moment before David could hear the clicking of Carly’s boots echoing towards the door.

“Carly, wait!” Nick called out to her.

Carly stopped, her heels squeaking on the wooden floor.

“I’m done with you,” Carly replied bitterly through broken breaths. “And you’d better be done with him. I won’t let you crush him like you did me.”

David managed to duck behind the open door just as Carly stormed through it, stomping all the way. She passed by closely enough for him to know for sure she was hiccuping back tears.

David counted to twenty before daring to move from his spot, then slowly peered around the door and into the room. Nick sat slumped at the grand piano, his fingers stroking the keys but not actually pressing down on any. David could’ve sworn even his curls looked sad.

“Uh, hi,” David said softly, now stepping into the giant room. “I just saw Carly run out of here. She seems… upset.”

Nick looked up wearily, as if he’d forgotten David would be there.

“Please don’t tell me you heard any of that,” Nick said quietly.

“Maybe… maybe a little,” David admitted. “I mean, not much.”

Nick sighed and gestured for David to come sit by him.

“I don’t know what she’s ever told you about me,” Nick said, staring down at the keyboard. “I mean, I know you’re friends and everything.”

“Not much, actually,” David answered truthfully. “I just know she doesn’t like you.”

“That’s shocking,” Nick replied, glancing up. “She used to love telling people every single reason why I was the worst human on earth.”

“What happened between you guys?” David asked. He hated seeing two people he really liked fighting with one another.

Nick let out a huge breath and glanced up at the ceiling for a moment before continuing.

“It’s super complicated,” Nick said. “But in short, a misunderstanding occurred that made us both so angry with one another that by the time we figured out what was really happening it was too late.”

“Well, can’t you explain… whatever it is… to her? She’s a reasonable person.” David knew this to be true. He’d spent enough time with her to know that at least.

Nick sighed and looked back to David.

“We might have also been dating,” he confessed.

David’s eyes went wide. Somehow that seemed like the mismatch of the century to him.

“Oh, we were great,” Nick said, apparently reading David’s thoughts. “Great until we found something to fight about. Then at some point she thought I was taking advantage of her talent somehow, and some of her friends that summer had thoroughly convinced her that I was flirting with other people… I wasn’t, by the way. Anyway, I’ve tried to talk to her a million times since then, but she won’t have it. You know how the Irish are.”

David wasn’t sure what that meant exactly, or whether he should’ve been offended on Carly’s behalf. But Nick looked so exhausted over the whole thing he decided to let it go.

“Well, I’m here now,” David said. “Shall we get to work? I find music is a good mind clearer.”

For the first time since David had arrived, Nick smiled.

“That sounds like an excellent idea.”

~*~

Over the next couple of days, Cook couldn’t stop thinking about Camp Rock. If someone had told him anytime before two weeks ago that that would have been the case, he would’ve punched that person square in the nose. But now he still had this mystery singer problem on his hands (no thanks to his spy mission) plus he just couldn’t stop thinking about that David kid.

Yes, really.

Although he’d been trying to concentrate on all the singers that day in voice class, he couldn’t help noticing David out of the corner of his eye every once in awhile. How he’d gaze with awe at a particularly good singer, or have this cute polite smile when someone was clearly terrible. How he’d lick his lips when he was thinking or how he’d say “Oh, gosh!” every time he dropped the pen he’d been fiddling with in his hands.

It also hadn’t escaped him that every time he brushed against Cook’s leg or arm he’d tense up for a brief second before letting out a controlled breath. That had made Cook grin every time.

Cook checked his watch. Four o’clock. Everyone should’ve been on free time if Cook remembered correctly, and assuming he actually took a direct trail this time he could make it to Camp Rock in about twenty-five minutes.

Because yes, he was going back.

He arrived on Camp Rock soil close to four-thirty, and sure enough plenty of campers were lounging around talking, playing games, and other things of the like. Trying to imagine where David might like to hang out, he wandered around a bit until he came face to face with the lake again.

Ugh, that lake! He’d have liked to drain it if he could.

Just before he dismissed the idea of cruising along the shore, however, he saw a familiar silhouette stationed on a large rock a bit off to the side. How he recognized David sitting there, he didn’t really know. Maybe it’d been the fact that he’d been on his mind so much lately.

“Boo,” Cook said quietly, coming up behind him.

David jumped a little, but when he looked up he wasn’t smiling. Even when he saw it was Cook he merely looked mildly surprised.

“Oh, hi,” he said, sitting up a little straighter. “Where have you been? You’re like a ghost or something.”

“Maybe I am,” Cook replied, pleased with the imagery. “Thought I’d come say hi since I hadn’t seen you in awhile.”

“It’s nice to know you’re not imaginary,” David replied solemnly. Cook felt a twinge in his chest; this was not the same cheerful, energetic David he’d met earlier.

“Nope, real flesh and bone,” Cook replied, trying to sound upbeat. “You can touch me if you want.”

Cook knew he didn’t always tell the best jokes, but this was getting ridiculous. David gave what could only be described as a generous smile, then turned back to look out at the lake as he had been before.

“David, what’s wrong?” Cook asked, taking a seat on a rather pointy part of the rock. “There’s no hiding sadness on you, obviously.”

David sighed and looked back to Cook.

“What are you supposed to do when you’ve made two nice friends but it turns out those two friends hate each other?”

Cook definitely hadn’t been ready for that.

“Uhh, wow, that’s tough,” Cook replied, running a hand through his hair. “Have you talked to them?”

“Yeah, sort of. I mean, one of them explained some stuff about how the other is basically holding a grudge,” David answered. “And the other one’s practically not talking to me.”

“Oh,” Cook said, surprised. “Well, it sounds like you don’t actually have anything to do with it,” he guessed. “They can’t tell you who to be friends with. Fuck ‘em.”

David started and cast his big glassy eyes up at Cook.

“Sorry,” Cook quickly apologized. “But seriously. See if you can reason with your one friend who isn’t talking to you. Then tell them both you won’t hear any more about it. They’ll come around because you’re a good friend.”

“How do you know I’m a good friend?” David asked quietly.

“Because you’re sitting here at the side of the lake worried about them both when it’s not even your problem,” Cook explained.

David sat quietly for a moment, his bottom lip caught firmly between his teeth.

“Look,” Cook said after a long pause. “I came looking for you because I was hoping to catch up. And, you know… I thought maybe you’d like that.”

“I would like that,” David replied, a small smile coming to his lips. “I wondered where you’d been, anyway.”

“So you’re saying you’ve been thinking about me?” Cook kidded.

“Er…” David trailed and Cook couldn’t help barking in laughter.

Cook put his hand on David’s shoulder, squeezing it lightly.

“How about this? I’m gonna let you finish moping. Then you go have dinner with your friend with the grudge. I’ll meet you back here after that and I’ll tell you everything I learned in Cub Scouts about astronomy.”

Finally, David’s face lit up in a genuine smile, and he even laughed a little bit.

“You’re a little bit crazy, aren’t you?” David asked.

“Yeah,” Cook agreed. “That’s what they tell me.”

~*~

It turned out that David Cook was totally right. With about all the courage David had ever mustered in his life, he marched over to Carly’s table with his dinner and just sat down across from her. He didn’t say anything at first, just sat down. Then after she’d stared at him for a little too long, he explained his feelings to her, how he didn’t like that she was so angry at Nick, but that he could live with it if she just agreed it wasn’t fair to drag him into the middle of it. He was going to be friends with Nick regardless. It was obvious that she really wanted to protest, but in the end she agreed that he was right.

“Besides, I’ve really missed seeing you blush when something is inappropriately funny,” she added. “Classic Archuleta.”

Feeling a whole lot better about his friend situation, David ate more than he had for days. He felt a thousand times better now that he got to have some conversation with his friends again, and he enjoyed himself so much that he completely lost track of time.

“Oh! I have to go!” he exclaimed suddenly, his eye catching the clock in the dining hall. “I have a date!”

Everyone at the table replied simultaneously.

“ _A date_?”

“Well, I mean… not a _date_ ,” David said, cheeks reddening. “A meeting. With an acquaintance.”

“Either he’s hiding a date,” Carly joked, pointing a fork at him, “or he’s secretly involved with the mafia.”

Sometimes David didn’t understand other people’s humor at all.

By the time he made it back down to the lake it’d gotten fairly dark, and at first he didn’t see Cook anywhere. Afraid that he’d left, David felt his heart come up in his throat.

“Boo,” came a voice from behind him. David jumped.

“Would you stop doing that!” he cried. “I’m gonna have a heart attack before the end of summer if you keep that up.”

“Sorry,” Cook replied from somewhere in the half darkness. “I went and got a flashlight and some binoculars, but I could only find one so we’ll have to share.”

David stood frozen for a second. “Didn’t you wonder what took me so long?” he asked.

Cook shrugged his shoulders. “Not really. You were visiting with your friends. I could wait.”

“I should’ve invited you to come,” David realized a little too late. “I’m sorry, I’m so rude.”

“No, no, no,” Cook insisted. “That was all you. I didn’t need to hang around for all that. Okay, are you ready for my mastery of astronomy or what?”

“Let me have it,” David replied, chuckling.

“So this, out here? This is space,” Cook began, waving a hand in front of him. “It’s dark and cold and there’s no oxygen so don’t even think about going out there, okay?”

“Noted,” David said, staring up into the ever-darkening sky.

“Over here we have stars. That’s those bright twinkly things. They’re pretty far away, like a million miles or something.”

David had to cover his mouth to keep from laughing, though it was becoming difficult.

“Some of these stars make shapes,” Cook explained, still pointing. “There you’ve got the Big Dipper. I guess people in olden days called ladles dippers. There is the infamous unicorn constellation over there.”

Now David couldn’t help laughing out loud.

“There’s no unicorn constellation!” he said.

“Hey, who’s the one with the Cub Scout Astronomy badge here?” Cook replied. “That’s right, me.”

“Oh, all right,” David laughed. “Whatever you say.”

“That’s right,” Cook replied. “So… well, that’s the end of our tour.”

“That’s it?” David protested. “I want my money back.”

“Sorry, no refunds,” Cook informed him. A grin started to spread across his face. “Okay, but seriously, have you ever seen the moon through a pair of binoculars?”

David shook his head.

Cook set his flashlight down on the ground, then held the binoculars up to his eyes and focused on the moon. After a little adjusting, he waved David over and slipped them into his hands.

“Check that out,” Cook said, guiding the binoculars close to David’s eyes. Though David was perfectly capable of holding them himself, Cook still gripped one side of them. His other hand slid across David’s shoulder until they were standing very closely together.

“It’s amazing what you can see just with these,” Cook said softly, practically whispering into David’s ear. His warm breath breezed David’s cheek, distracting him from the subject at hand. Finally he focused, however, and the slight gasp that escaped his lips made Cook chuckle.

David had seen the moon a million times, just like anyone. He’d seen photos of it taken with fancy telescope equipment on television, or high quality posters in science classrooms. But none of that compared to looking at the craters and shadows that actually fell on the moon at that very moment, in three dimensions, in real life. The reality of it took his breath away.

“Incredible, right?” Cook whispered, breath still warm on David’s neck. “Just wait until you see a planet or the Pleiades or something. You’ll start feeling really existential real quick.”

David didn’t know what existential meant, but he did know this: If he’d been feeling like he was crushing on David Cook before, this pushed it all the way up to “falling.”

~*~

“Whatta ya mean you’ve never done archery?” Cook asked as he picked through the selection of tattered bows that Camp Rock had in its sports shed. “Have you ever even gone outside?”

“I go outside!” David protested. The serious look on his face did nothing but amuse Cook even more. “I just run and stuff.”

Cook selected the two best bows he could find, bringing one to David. They started walking along the path towards the archery range, equipment strapped to their backs.

“I don’t know, David, it’s like you’ve never been to summer camp before or something.”

David stopped in his tracks, appearing crestfallen.

“I haven’t,” he admitted. This time the serious tone in his voice made Cook realize he’d said something dumb. He usually wouldn’t have cared so much, but this was David. He didn’t like upsetting David like that.

“Oh,” was all Cook could come up with. “Sorry, I forget not everyone was sent to camp from the age of five. Don’t look so sad! You were probably having great times with your siblings and stuff. Me? I bet my mom couldn’t even fathom having me home all day all summer long. And that’s not a reflection on her, let me tell you. She deserved the relief from me.”

David remained quiet as they ascended the slight hill that led up to the archery range. Cook had learned enough about David to know that he tended to stay quiet during conversations such as this, either because he didn’t know what to say or because he was just hoping Cook would shut up already. Either way, it was nice to get to the top of the path and find the archery range completely empty. Cook let out a sigh of relief because up until this point he’d managed to stay out of large crowds for the most part, which also meant avoiding being recognized. Cook was at least self-aware enough to know he was no Justin Timberlake or whatever – he could still walk down the street without being recognized in general – but both camps had to have a higher percentage of people knowing him. He’d been picked up straight out of a camp competition, after all.

Which brought him to the thought that David hadn’t recognized him either. At first this had been great, because at the time what he needed was cover, not attention. But now that he’d met David yet again for an afternoon activity it was becoming increasingly more difficult to navigate the fact that he was actually more than a typical camper around those parts. That could get sticky if anything became of this summer friendship.

Still contemplating the increasing complexity of his current social situation, Cook led David to a central spot along the line where archers were meant to stand.

“Okay, go ahead and lay your quiver on the ground, I guess,” Cook said, noting Camp Rock didn’t have the fancy shooting booth structures that Camp Star did. “That’s your thing with the arrows,” he added when David looked at him confused.

“So just take your bow in your hand like this,” Cook explained as he demonstrated. “Now you’ll see that I’m – David, what’s wrong?”

David knitted his brow as he shifted the bow from one hand to the other, as if he couldn’t figure out which hand went where.

“How do I hold this thing?” David asked tentatively. “Oh gosh, I’m just too dumb to do this, I can’t even hold the thing.”

“David,” Cook said kindly, putting his own bow down and stepping over to his companion. “Calm down, alright? Take a breath. Now, just put your left hand here…”

David hesitated as if following Cook’s instructions didn’t process in his brain correctly.

“Wait a second,” Cook instructed as something suddenly occurred to him. “Are you right or left handed?”

“Left,” David replied, sounding sorry for it. He’d somehow tangled his elbow in the stringed part of the bow.

“Well, no fucking wonder,” Cook muttered, then immediately apologized. “Sorry.”

Cook took hold of the bow and relieved David of its trappings. Tossing the bow to the ground he said, “That bow can go right to hell then. Here.”

He picked up his own bow again and placed it in David’s hands.

“For us lefties,” he said, smiling. “Okay, hold this part with your right hand. You’re gonna pull back on the arrow with your left.”

David did as he was told, this time with much greater success.

“Awesome,” Cook praised. “Okay, aim for one of those targets out there. They’re kind of far away at the moment, but that doesn’t matter. You gotta learn to shoot it first anyway.”

Unfortunately, David had a little bit of trouble doing this part. Cook cringed as David pulled lamely at the bowstring, resulting in him dropping his arrow.

“Oooh, that’s hard!” David cried, sounding defeated.

“Yeah,” Cook said, bending to pick up the arrow. “I forgot to say it’s very tightly strung, you gotta have a little strength. Try again.”

The second attempt went about as well as the first and Cook was afraid he was about to lose David’s attention entirely. From what Cook could remember of camp days gone by, it was pretty easy to give up on something like this because it wasn’t just an inexperience thing, but a strength thing – something you needed just to start. Luckily, he had a plan.

“Okay, here’s what we’re gonna do,” Cook explained, picking up the arrow again. “Nock that arrow and I’m gonna stand over here.”

As David did so, Cook moved to David’s right side, coming up close behind him.

“You keep holding there,” Cook instructed, referring to David’s holding of the bow. “I’m gonna help you draw this back, okay?”

David nodded silently, and Cook could’ve sworn he was holding his breath. In order to keep his own form in line, Cook rested his right hand around David’s, and as soon as their skin touched David tensed up, just as he’d done that day in the recording studio. Moving his left hand to meet David’s, he leaned in close, whispering in his student’s ear.

“Relax,” he reminded him. “Keep breathing. You’re gonna pull a shoulder muscle or something if you keep that up.”

The thing was, David seemed to be an expert at doing exactly the opposite when he was nervous.

“I said breathe, damn it,” Cook repeated a little more sharply.

The taste of sharpness must’ve done the trick, because David finally relaxed the tiniest amount, which resulted in him slightly easing his back into Cook’s chest.

Okay, so maybe Cook understood why David was feeling so nervous all of a sudden because now he was too. Warmth filled Cook’s chest, both outside and in, which didn’t seem like it should happen since it was the first week of August and about eighty-five degrees out. But it was like David had his own warmth, a gentler, more pleasing warmth, like a fire at Christmas or something. On top of that, David’s summer-tanned skin intruded into Cook’s face, the nape of his neck lightly damp with sweat. The whole situation was practically begging Cook to bring himself a little bit closer, to press his mouth into David’s shoulder blade.

What the actual hell was he thinking, allowing himself to be distracted like that? It was as if the mid-afternoon sun had baked his brain in an attempt to convince him to do something completely insane. Part of the point of this summer was to _stop_ being insanely impulsive. He needed to rein it in quick.

“Okay,” he said, his throat dry and voice cracking. “So just pull back with me now…”

Truth be told, Cook did most of the work, as David’s arms had seemingly gone to jelly. But even so, David smiled a gigantic smile as he watched the arrow sail wobbly in front of them, achieving a distance of maybe ten or fifteen feet.

Usually Cook would’ve cheered, using too much enthusiasm in order to keep his student’s spirit up. But between the heat of the sun, the heat of David’s back, and the heat building in other parts of his body, he could barely keep himself upright.

“Great job,” he choked, letting go of David’s hands and taking a step back. A distinct coolness struck the palms of his hands and chest.

“That… was all right,” David said, daring to glance at his teacher. Sweat had formed at his temple as well, dampening his bangs, which for some reason made Cook’s internal furnace ratchet up a notch.

“See? It’s fun,” Cook managed, struggling to keep his cool.

“Yeah,” David replied. He licked his lips and Cook briefly had to look away. David smiled and grabbed another arrow from his quiver, handing it to Cook.

“Let’s do it again.”

~*~

The days only grew hotter as August progressed, and even though David had visited Honduras on a few occasions with his family, he still wasn’t ready for the weather reaching the upper nineties. On the day it was rumored to break a hundred, David Cook mysteriously showed up along the lake, appearing out of nowhere like always.

“How come you’re always hanging out by the lake?” David asked, wiping his brow with his arm.

“How come _you’re_ always hanging out by the lake?” Cook challenged, shielding his eyes from the sun. “Are you secretly a mermaid and have to keep near the water?”

David made a face, but smiled. “My cabin’s right over there,” he said, gesturing. “What’s your excuse?”

“I guess I just know where to find you,” Cook replied solemnly.

Something about the way Cook looked at him made David’s heart do a cartwheel. He’d been trying to keep his emotions in check the last few days, reminding himself that soon camp would be over and he’d probably never see Cook ever again. But it was so hard to push away, especially as Cook started showing up more frequently to spend time together.

Or at least, he supposed he could call it “spending time together.” That sounded an awful lot like dating, which was way beyond anything he could possibly even fathom at the moment. But it seemed Cook only wanted to spend time with him, as when David had suggested inviting Brooke or Jason along Cook made a scrunchy face that clearly meant no. (It was a cute scrunchy face though, so sometimes David still asked just so Cook would make the face.)

“You think there’s a pool around here somewhere?” Cook asked, still squinting against the sun.

“Uh,” David replied, glancing towards the water not twenty feet away from them. “The lake is right here?”

Cook’s eyes went wide and he stared at David for a long moment.

“I’m not swimming in the lake,” Cook replied.

“Why not?” David asked, genuinely confused.

“Oh no,” Cook replied, shaking his head. “That lake and I have a bad history.”

“What, don’t you know how to swim?” David asked, smirking.

“I know how to swim, David,” Cook said defensively. “But aren’t there like… like _fish_ in there? Sharks? The Loch Ness monster?”

“You’re so weird,” David replied, smirking, though he himself had been wary of fish swimming by him earlier in the summer. By now he’d gotten used to it though and realized it wasn’t that big of a deal.

“Come on,” he added. “Go get your swim trunks from your cabin and meet me back here.”

“Uhhh,” Cook stammered, seemingly looking for an excuse. “My cabin is kind of a long way from here. Like far away. I’m not even sure I brought swim trunks anyway.”

“You didn’t bring swim trunks to camp!” David replied in surprise. “What? What are you even saying?”

“I didn’t exactly plan on going into the lake,” Cook mumbled.

“Oh for goodness sake,” David said, exasperated. “Come on, we’ll see if a pair of mine or Jason’s will fit you.”

Cook reluctantly followed along, dragging his feet the whole way. David wouldn’t have usually forced someone to do something he didn’t want to do, but this was just silly. Didn’t bring swimming trunks to camp. What kind of madness was this? And who didn’t like at least wading in the water on a scorching hot day? The sun must’ve been getting to Cook or something.

After a little searching, David found a second pair of shorts his mother had packed, one he knew was a little too big for him. But he also knew that she did this kind of thing sometimes, packing extra things in case someone else needed them. Sometimes David felt it was ridiculous, but again, his mother ended up being helpful to him without even being there. He handed Cook the extra pair and then they headed towards the nearby bathroom to change.

By the time they made it back, the sun had just begun to sink below the tops of the trees, a glowing orange piercing through their branches. Despite this, the air still hung with thick humidity, and David was more than happy to tread right into the lake water, happy for its cool relief.

“Come on in, the water’s fine,” David said to Cook, who had stopped short at the shoreline. He laughed as he added, “I’ve always wanted to say that.”

“I’m just gonna sit here on this rock and put my feet in,” Cook replied, moving towards a large boulder near the water’s edge. “Also, I feel ridiculous in these neon green shorts,” he added bitterly.

“No one will see your neon green shorts if you come in the water,” David coaxed as he continued into waist-deep water.

“Good Lord almighty,” Cook said as he poked a toe in the water. “It’s freezing! You’d think sitting under this sun all day it’d be warmer.”

“It’s not freezing!” David replied, water up to his chest now. “It’s perfect.”

“You go ahead,” Cook replied. “Look, there’s no lifeguard on this beach. I gotta keep an eye out for you.”

David rolled his eyes before letting his body sink into the water, pulling his head completely underneath with him. The rush of cold water instantly refreshed him from top to bottom, and he could almost feel the sticky heat peeling away. Kicking out, he swam under the surface for a moment until he needed to take a breath, and was surprised when he finally came up for air to find he was so far from shore. He wondered if he could guess Cook’s worried thoughts since he’d seemingly been under for so long.

It amused David, however, that the rough and tumble rock star found his weakness at the water’s edge. Sure, there were legitimate reasons to be afraid of bodies of water; drowning was no laughing matter. But Cook wouldn’t even step in, get his feet wet. He’d said he knew how to swim, so what was the real problem?

As David made a few laps back and forth he thought about how he could get Cook into the water. It seemed like convincing him with words wasn’t going to work, so he’d have to try something else. He’d have to convince him with action.

Kicking out from where he was, he headed back toward the shore only to find Cook had now draped the towel he’d brought over his shoulders like a cape.

“What are you doing?” David asked, again wading in waist-deep water. He swept his hand through his hair in order to direct water out of his eyes.

“It occurred to me I might burn,” Cook replied unconvincingly.

“You’re really bringing this whole afternoon down,” David said, trying to sound disappointed. Maybe a little guilt would get Cook to join him.

“You’re the one who insisted!” Cook said, waving a hand. “I mean, if you want to come sit here and hang out with me instead, that’s cool.”

David had had about enough. He thought about how much fun his brother and sisters had on hot summer days in Utah, swimming and splashing water at one another, his sisters screeching happily the entire time. His brother, Daniel, was the one who always started the water fights, finding great joy in chasing his sisters all around the back yard.

Which gave David an idea.

Without any kind of warning, David bent to scoop his hand into the water, cupping a good amount before flinging it out towards his sourpuss friend. A good amount of it landed across Cook’s knees, which caused him to look up with complete shock on his face. David couldn’t help the humongous grin on his face.

“What was that for?” Cook demanded, narrowing his brow.

But David didn’t answer. Words weren’t working in this situation, so he wasn’t going to use them. He bent again and scooped up an even bigger wave of water, which reached Cook’s upper thighs this time, and splattered his shoulders a bit.

“You’re getting my towel wet!” Cook protested.

“Well, you’re not using it!” David reasoned as he started a pattern of splashes up towards the shore, each one bigger than the last. Cook finally threw off his towel, allowing it to tumble onto the rocks behind him.

“Damn it, David,” he grumbled, stomping towards the water. David’s plan was working perfectly. Now it was time to bring out the big guns.

David laughed as he positioned himself so as to use both of his hands together to create a veritable tsunami of water towards Cook, who had to shield his face to protect himself from flying water. A grin finally grew on the latter’s face as he waded out to where he could also reach the water and began splashing back.

“You’re in big trouble, mister,” Cook warned. David laughed hard enough that he lost his footing and nearly fell backwards into the lake.

Now waist-deep himself, Cook pushed through the water, sending up splashes the whole way. It soon became difficult to see through their watery crossfire, and David had to pause to rub water out of his eyes.

It turned out to be a fatal mistake.

Unexpectedly, Cook lunged forward, grabbing David by the shoulders. David opened his eyes long enough to see Cook grinning before he found himself being swiftly pushed back and under, barely able to close them again before his whole head was submerged. For one brief second David panicked as anyone would when taken by surprise, but Cook’s hands were quickly off of him allowing him to recover easily.

Flailing, it took David longer than expected to right himself, and as soon as his ears came above water he could hear Cook cackling from the safety of shallow water.

“So you push someone down and then run away, huh?” David asked, spitting lake water out of his mouth. “Afraid of me, are you?”

Cook just continued laughing as David swam back to where he could touch and wade back towards his attacker.

“I dare you to come after me,” Cook taunted, which sounded like he didn’t think David would do it. But Cook hadn’t been in an Archuleta family water fight before either.

Deftly wading through the water, David grabbed Cook by the wrist, something that seemed to surprise him to say the least. Tugging as hard as he could, David tried to pull Cook off his balance, doing his best to swing him around into the deeper water. Because Cook weighed more than him it took a lot of effort, but it was for the same reason that Cook came splashing down into the water, arms helicoptering the whole way.

The maneuver had caused David to fall off balance as well, but he managed not to go under at least. When Cook finally made it up for air David burst into laughter at his companion’s soaked hair sticking to his face, water dripping from his beard.

“That wasn’t very nice!” Cook bellowed, combing his fingers through his hair. “A fish touched my face!”

“Oh sure,” David replied, still laughing as he settled into shallow enough water for sitting. “When _I_ do it it’s not very nice. Come here and get your towel, you big baby,” David kidded. “Before you melt away or whatever.”

Cook gave David an evil eye as he passed him, kicking up a splash of water with his foot on the way. David merely laughed as he wiped away the drops from his cheek. He watched as Cook retrieved his towel and immediately started rubbing it against his head.

“You know what?” Cook asked, still wringing water out of his hair. David couldn’t help thinking he looked awfully cute with his hair sticking up weirdly everywhere. “I don’t think I’ve had this much fun in ages.”

“Well, good,” David replied, genuinely pleased. He didn’t think he had either, really, not since he’d gotten to camp at least. “Sorry for getting you all wet,” he added.

“Yeah, well, don’t think revenge isn’t already brewing,” Cook joked. “But I guess it did cool me off, so… I’m not saying thank you, but…”

“You’re welcome,” David said, getting up out of the water. “Now stop hogging the towel.”

~*~

The final weeks leading up to Final Jam were nothing short of chaotic. Cook tried to visit David a couple more times, but soon got swept up in preparations and judge-related duties, as he and Michael had been selected to represent Camp Star. It was getting harder to explain to David why he couldn’t see him every single day, but luckily saying that he was busy with Final Jam business both satisfied David and wasn’t even a lie.

On the day of the competition, Cook and Michael were ordered to stay in their cabin until show time, because as judges they were meant to be unbiased and couldn’t be influenced by those practicing in the auditorium all day. This was ridiculous, of course. Even the most honest judge would at least be familiar with the people from his respective camp and potentially favor them a little. Outside judges would’ve been more accurate, but whatever. Cook got to sleep in and play cards with Michael all day so he almost didn’t care.

The competition was set for the mid-afternoon, so after a long lunch Cook was finally allowed to wander over to the auditorium and start getting settled in. Packs of spectators had already started filing in, eager to get good seats. The Camp Star auditorium had been chosen because it was bigger, but as Cook pushed his way through to go check in, he sure seemed to pass a lot more people with Camp Rock t-shirts on.

After getting his instructions and judging criteria, Cook headed on in. He was one of the few people who would actually have an assigned seat, but he sort of wanted to get in before it became more of a madhouse than it already was. Besides, he didn’t feel like hanging out in the lobby in a sea of overenthusiastic Camp Rock campers.

Cook made his way up to the judges’ table, clipboard of scoring sheets in hand. Michael hadn’t arrived yet, but the two Camp Rock judges were just finding their seats. Paper place cards had been put at each of the four seats and Cook could see that his was second from the left.

“Oh, Jesus, do I really have to sit next to you?” the girl with dark brown hair was saying to her Camp Rock companion just as Cook was approaching. “Are these seats permanent?”

“Trust me, I already asked,” the latter replied, eyes squinting. “The Emcee’s already got the script to introduce us in a certain order. So deal with it.”

Cook put his clipboard down and glared at the two. “Geez, if this is how people on the same side treat one another, I’m afraid to sit down.”

“He and I will never be on the same side,” the girl replied, putting her things down as well. “I already like you more than him and I don’t even know you. I’m Carly, by the way.”

Carly put out her hand and Cook took it briefly. “David Cook.”

Carly paused, staring at him. A half-second later the other judge -- Nick, according to his place card -- shot a look around Carly’s shoulder.

“Oh, wow,” Carly said, letting go of Cook’s hand. “Uh, no offense, but you’ve kind of been a total jerk on the news lately.”

“Please don’t remind me,” Cook sighed. “I’m fully aware of my stupidity by now.”

“Well, it’s not that surprising, Carly,” Nick piped up from behind her. “You know what kind of self-important people Camp Star produces.”

Cook started to say “What’s that supposed to mean?” but Carly cut him off.

“Oh, look who’s talking,” she said bitingly. “Just because you couldn’t get in.”

“Can we just sit?” Nick asked.

Cook took his seat and began reviewing the score cards, all the while trying not to care about the two Camp Rockers next to him. Each of the forms had been partially pre-filled with the contestant’s name and other vital information such as what instrument he or she played or what type of music they were going to play. Cook found this to be a smart idea; he didn’t know about anyone else but there was no way he was going to be able to keep up with all that on his own.

Michael finally arrived, taking his place next to Cook.

“What’d I miss?” he asked automatically.

“Nothing, of course,” Cook replied, giving his friend a look. “It hasn’t started.”

“Hey, Camp Star,” Nick called from the other end of the table. “You ready to get beat?”

“Ha!” Michael retorted, leaning so he could see around Cook. “Just like last time? Because I’m pretty sure you got absolutely creamed, Rockers.”

The lights started to fade and the audience briefly went on a screaming frenzy before settling down as Aunt Paula came to take center stage.

“Welcome everyone,” she announced over some fringe noises. “We’re happy to have all of you here today for this very special edition of Final Jam. I just want to take a quick moment to introduce our judges tonight; veterans from both camps, Nick Jonas, Carly Smithson, David Cook, and Michael Johns. We’ve got a lot of talent waiting for you, so let’s get started!” she added with a fist pump. 

Her last sentence and Michael’s name were both lost in the screaming and commotion that resulted in Cook’s name being announced, which only seemed to amuse Michael rather than annoy him. Nick glared at him from down the table, and Cook just wanted to melt under the table. For once in his life he wanted no attention whatsoever.

The show got underway and the talent had its ups and downs, but overall not too bad. Cook was overly thankful because in all of Michael’s excitement of being a judge, Cook forgot just how terrible the job might actually be. After more than an hour and a half of electric guitars, drum solos, and even glockenspiels, Aunt Paula returned to the stage as she had several times while equipment was being set up for the next contestant.

“All right, everyone,” Aunt Paula announced to the crowd. “We’ve seen a lot of amazing performances tonight already. I don’t envy the judges who have to choose from this wonderful selection. You’re all winners.”

Nick huffed audibly from his end of the table as he continued to scribble notes about the last performer.

“We’ve got one last treat for you, however,” Paula finished, beginning to gesture towards the piano being pushed back onstage. “Our last contestant from Camp Rock, David Archuleta.”

As they had done for every other introduction, the audience clapped politely as the named contestant made his way across the stage and took his place at the piano. Cook couldn’t help notice Nick looking up suddenly and stop writing mid-sentence.

Cook flipped to the last page, where “David Archuleta” had already been printed at the top. “Piano” had been indicated in the “discipline” field as well. Cook looked up just in time to see David -- his David -- crossing the stage.

It occurred to him in that moment that he’d never learned David’s last name. In fact, in the short amount of time they’d managed to spend together neither one of them had talked about music too much. Odd, since obviously both of them were at music camps at the same time.

On top of that, Cook’s theory about bias amongst judges had just gotten a wrench thrown into it; because he was definitely favoring this Camp Rock contestant already.

As the crowd quieted and the lights faded, David started to play, a little tentatively at first. Cook could tell he was extremely nervous, which usually he might mark down a point under the belief that performers needed to be confident in their skills. But Cook forgot about this quickly as power grew in the notes echoing across Camp Star’s auditorium. David soon dove into an upbeat pop song with a technical ability that Cook absolutely did not expect, not only from Camp Rock but from _anyone_. He’d be hard pressed to think even Andy could keep up with this kid. He stared wordlessly down at the stage, his pen not even touching the page.

And then David began to sing.

Cook thought for sure that his eyes might be about to pop right out of his cranium as about a million different beams of information struck him all at once. “Voice” had not been marked on his score sheet as it usually would have been alongside the instrument. Why on earth not, he couldn’t begin to imagine. Said voice didn’t seem like it even belonged to the slender, dark-haired, nerves-shaken performer. And the more words that washed over him, the more Cook realized what he was hearing.

This was The Voice he’d been hearing inside his head for weeks.

His pen officially fell on the floor at that point, and Carly glanced over at him smirking. Sure, she probably already knew David Archuleta had an amazing voice. David Archuleta was probably some glorified prince over in Camp Rock land. As for Nick, his expression was hard to read, somewhere between amazement and pride.

By the time the song finished, the entire judges’ panel was frozen in awe of this tiny little being pushing out that incredible voice and piano skill. The audience exploded. David Archuleta, just moments before filled with musical energy, now held back, a polite smile on his face, looking about as humble as any human had ever been.

“Mate,” Michael said from Cook’s left. “Dude.”

“I know,” Cook replied, still staring towards the stage. “I…”

Aunt Paula had returned to the stage yet again, struggling to calm the audience and reminding everyone that it was now time to be patient as the judges made their final calculations. Cook stood up in his spot, striving to catch a last glimpse of the person he’d been dying to meet all summer long. The person he’d actually known all along.

“Oy, your pen rolled over here,” Michael announced, bending to pick it up at his feet. He held it out in Cook’s direction, but Cook couldn’t have cared less about a stupid pen at the moment. In a sudden return to his rebel self, he jumped over the table, leaving a wake of scattered papers all over the floor.

“Hey!” both Michael and Carly said together.

But Cook was already gone, having dropped down from the elevated platform where their table stood to the masses of chatting audience members below. The aisles had filled in the impatience and boredom of waiting, and Cook had to fight against the crowd in order to make it to the front of the auditorium.

“Davey, what on earth are you doing?”

Aunt Paula’s voice rang in Cook’s ear as he climbed straight up the front of the stage instead of going around to the side steps.

“Where did he go?” he demanded, not caring if he made any sense. He knew he didn’t make any sense. None of this made any sense. David Archuleta made no sense whatsoever.

“Davey, you’re supposed to be finishing your scores,” Aunt Paula said with concern. “David!”

She shouted after him as he darted to stage left, knowing he had a fifty-fifty chance of catching up with David. He just hoped the contestants hadn’t been herded downstairs in the meantime.

It seemed he was in luck, because just as he ducked behind one of the stage curtains, he nearly ran face-first into David Archuleta.

“You!” he exclaimed a little too loudly.

“I… hello? What are you doing down here? Also, you never told me you were a judge!” David was understandably confused.

“You’re the voice,” Cook said, grabbing David by the shoulders.

“Pardon?”

“You’re the voice I hear inside my head!” Cook declared, pretty happy with himself. “It was you all along!”

“I’m sorry,” David apologized. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“David,” Cook said desperately, pulling David to the side. “When I showed up at Camp Rock that day saying I was looking for the voice class, I was really trying to track down someone I’d heard singing in the forest the day before. I’m not from Camp Rock, I’m from Camp Star. But I’ve been looking for… for _you_ all summer!”

David’s eyes went wide and Cook immediately knew that he’d been right.

“It was you!” Cook said, almost accusingly. “You’re the voice. But I never even thought about finding out if anyone _not_ in voice class could sing.”

“Wait, did you say you’re from Camp Star?” he asked, sounding slightly hurt. It took Cook a moment to figure out why, but of course in all his tunnel vision he hadn’t anticipated this bit at all.

“Um, yes,” Cook replied sheepishly, rubbing his neck. “I’m… I’m sorry. It’s just that, like I said, I snuck over there on a mission and ended up gradually getting to know you better and the more time went on the more awkward it seemed to tell you…”

“So this is a good time then?” David asked, obviously sore. Cook felt terrible. This wasn’t how this was supposed to go at all, not that he’d even planned it anyway.

“David, I’m sorry,” Cook repeated. He had no idea what else to say. “I’m just an idiot. Idiot is my middle name, ask anyone here.”

“Oh, is that so?” David asked, brow raising.

“Well, no, it’s actually Roland, but that’s beside the point.” Cook paused a second, narrowing his eyes. “Also, don’t tell anyone that.”

David sort of snickered, which made Cook feel at least a little bit better.

“What’s more important is this,” Cook said with all seriousness. “I started out trying to find that voice because I hadn’t heard talent like that in ages. I wanted to get that person on my label, under my management.”

The smirk melted from David’s face, clearly shocked by such news.

“But then I’ve been hanging out with you over the last couple weeks,” Cook continued, becoming more and more aware of how restless everyone in the building was becoming. He knew he wouldn’t have much more time.

“You were so nice to me, even when I was kind of a jerk. For some reason you still agreed to hang out with me and put up with my crankiness and I just… I can’t explain it at all but I really like you, David. We’re complete and utter opposites but I’m so attracted to you and… and you’re the voice.”

David remained frozen, only able to sputter awkward word-like sounds that meant nothing at all. Deer-in-headlight syndrome had set in so Cook did the only thing he knew how to do: something extreme and crazy in order to shock him back to reality.

With bright lights burning up the house and chattering voices flooding his ears, Cook pushed forward, cupping David’s chin as he went in for a firm kiss that nearly sent David backwards into a wardrobe rack. After a moment of what seemed like absolute terror on his part, David relaxed ever so slightly into it, and Cook wanted nothing more than to savor those soft lips forever.

“Davey, there you are!”

Aunt Paula pulled back the scrap of curtain that hid them, only to be stunned into her own moment of frozen time. David’s cheeks instantly went scarlet and Cook couldn’t help laughing at the entire situation.

“Davey,” she said again after taking a breath. “I’m sorry to break up your moment, but we’re all waiting on you to fill out your scorecard for Mr. Archuleta.”

As she said it she waved the unfinished form in his face, and Cook grabbed it and the pen she offered as well.

“As if this is even necessary,” Cook commented impatiently as he drew one large circle down the side of the sheet, encapsulating every single 10 possible. “Here, calculate that!”

Paula raised her brow at the paper being thrust back at her, then a smile appeared on her lips.

“Okay, then,” she said happily. “I think we know our winner.”

~*~

David couldn’t believe he’d actually won Final Jam. He almost hadn’t even entered, but Nick had insisted. He did worry a little bit about Cook’s biased scoring, but Cook had told him to stop thinking about things so deeply because they were trying to celebrate. (Both camps had merged for a campfire celebration afterward.)

Since camp was officially over, there was nothing left to do in the morning except have breakfast and wait for parents to pick up campers. Hardly anyone ate anything as they all exchanged phone numbers and promises to become friends on Facebook. And of course they would all be at Camp Rock again next year.

David was still waiting in the grand meeting hall with all of his stuff long after Carly, Brooke, and everyone else had left. He was pretty sure his mom would be sort of late since he had probably traveled the furthest out of everyone, by car anyway. It was okay though because it gave him time to think about the summer he’d just had; how crazy, confusing, and fun it had been. He’d made marked improvements in a lot of areas, even in those he never expected. And he’d won an award -- he still had to process that. His mom would surely flip when she saw it. Besides all that, he’d kind of gotten a boyfriend? He didn’t really know if Cook was his boyfriend since no one had said as much, and they’d not had too much alone time since Final Jam to talk privately since everyone under the sun kept coming up to congratulate him on his win.

“Hey, you’re still here.”

David looked up to find Nick walking towards him, guitar case in one hand. He’d forgotten that Nick actually played about a million different instruments.

“Yeah,” David replied solemnly. “My mom’s coming from a long way away.”

Nick took a seat next to him and laid his guitar on the floor.

“You miss it already, don’t you?” Nick observed. His eyes were scanning the room instead of looking at David.

“Yeah,” David replied. “How did you know?”

Nick flashed that smile David remembered from weeks ago, chuckling a little.

“Because it happens to everyone,” Nick said honestly. “Because I feel the same way right now.”

David looked up at Nick with surprise. “What? But haven’t you been coming here since you were like six?”

“Yeah,” Nick confirmed, finally glancing over at David. “It never goes away.”

The two sat silently for a moment, the hall now completely empty except for them.

“I, uh, wanted to say I’m sorry,” Nick said, looking down at his hands. “For dragging you into the middle of drama.”

“It’s not your fault,” David said.

“It kind of is,” Nick replied. “I might’ve started it by talking to you on the first day of camp. That kind of was just to piss Carly off.”

“Oh,” David said quietly, a little surprised.

“I mean, I can actually be a jerk sometimes,” Nick admitted. “And self-centered. It’s why I don’t actually have many friends outside of my brothers. I know it’s something I have to work on.”

“It’s okay,” David replied, glad that Nick could recognize his own faults.

“It’s not,” Nick said. “But I know what you mean.”

Just then, Joe poked his head in the door, waving at Nick.

“C’mon, Nicky, Dad’s here!”

“Coming!” Nick answered. Joe disappeared back outside.

“You didn’t yell at him for calling you Nicky,” David observed.

“Yeah, well,” Nick said. “I’m turning over a new leaf.”

For some unknown reason, Nick’s answer seemed absolutely hilarious and the two of them burst into laughter.

“Why is that funny?” Nick asked, rubbing his eyes.

“I have no idea,” David admitted, but it suddenly reminded him of home. The Archuletas were always cracking up for no reason whatsoever.

“See you next summer?” Nick asked. “I hope?”

“Be there or be square,” David answered. He had a feeling only squares ever actually said that.

“I’m always here,” Nick assured him. “I’ll look for you on Facebook or whatever. I’d better go, Joe’s making faces at the window.”

David tried to muffle his snickering, but failed miserably.

“Okay, moron, I’m coming!” Nick shouted as he pushed through the door.

David was only alone for a second before he was surprised by a pair of hands coming over his eyes from behind.

“Guess who?” said a now-all-too-familiar voice in his ear.

“Cook! You scared me!” David yelped. “What’re you doing here?”

“Pfft, Andy and Neal won’t come to get me until the last possible moment, if I know them. After dark, probably. Neal will think that’s the funniest thing on earth. He better be nice, I made him a birdhouse.” He paused. “Okay, so I bought it off a kid five minutes ago.”

He held up a shoddily handmade birdhouse painted in bright neon colors.

David shook his head in disbelief. “You have weird friends, David Cook.”

“Yeah, but they’re mine,” Cook said, smiling like a proud mama. “Hey, I’ve got something for you too.”

“What?” David asked. “You shouldn’t h--”

“Don’t get too excited,” Cook warned, reaching into his jacket pocket. A second later he was pulling out a long bit of blue-gray fabric that seemed awfully familiar.

“My scarf!” David exclaimed, grabbing it out of Cook’s hands. “I thought I lost it!”

“You did,” Cook told him, beaming like an idiot. “In the forest that day.”

“You found it?”

“It was my only clue,” Cook replied. “Not that it did me any good in the end. Stupid scarf.”

“Hey!” David protested, pulling it around his neck. “I love this scarf.”

“Fashionable scarves are so not rock and roll,” Cook teased. He tugged gently on the light fabric until David’s mouth met his in a short kiss. “But you make it work.”

“I’m gonna miss you,” David said solemnly, sadness quickly overcoming him. “I don’t want to wait until next summer to see you again. What if you forget about me?”

Cook scrunched his face as if he’d never heard anything so ridiculous in his life.

“Uh, David, we live in the twenty-first century. With cell phones and Skype and e-mail?”

“Oh, I don’t really use the Internet too often,” David admitted, which was basically true. He liked being outdoors and stuff a whole lot more than playing with electronics all the time.

“Well, you’re gonna learn,” Cook said warningly. “You ever heard of Snapchat?”

“I think my sister has that?” David answered, unsure.

“Yeah, well, don’t be showing her any snaps I send you from the road,” Cook said with a glint in his eye.

“What?” David asked innocently.

“Nevermind,” Cook replied, still grinning. “What time’s your mom coming?”

“I have no idea,” David admitted. “She’s coming a long way. Could be awhile, I guess.”

“You wanna go canoeing with me until then?”

David gave Cook a sideways glance. “Do you even know how to work one of those things?”

“How dare you, sir,” Cook said, feigning insult. “Of course I do. If you don’t count that one time I capsized a canoe when I was twelve.”

“Well, you’ve really sold me on this idea,” David replied sarcastically. “Lead the way.”

“I’ll lead you anywhere, David Archuleta.”


End file.
